


The Eight Pieces of Violet Bridgerton's Heart

by liss99



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Grandmothers, Motherhood, Motherly love, this is cute stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liss99/pseuds/liss99
Summary: Violet Bridgerton, the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, was not more proud of anything than her children. Eight children over the course of 18 years was a testament she was most proud of, especially after the death of her husband shortly before the birth of their eighth child. Violet was an elegant, determined, and loving mother. As her children grew, she wanted nothing more for them than to find such happiness she had had with their father. But in the eyes of a harsh, judgmental society imparting its thoughts on everyone and every match at any given second, she found it difficult to ensure that happiness in her children’s matches.The love stories of the eight Bridgerton children as seen from their mother's perspective.New Chapter: Hyacinth and Gareth
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Francesca Bridgerton/Michael Stirling, Hyacinth Bridgerton/Gareth St. Clair, Lucy Abernathy/Gregory Bridgerton, Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton
Comments: 92
Kudos: 331





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of Bridgerton being renewed for a second season and my obsession with period pieces. This is book-verse mostly bc I’m hoping not all eight siblings are straight straight on the tv show but I read all of these books in like a week and Violet is mother of the century and I wanted to envision her internal response to her kids and their spouses. Enjoy the fluff.

People of the ton often said that Violet Bridgerton may well live to be over 100 years old and watch the family she planted bloom.

Violet Bridgerton, the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, was not prouder of anything than her children. Eight children over 18 years were a testament she was most proud of, especially after the death of her husband shortly before the birth of their eighth child. Violet was an elegant, determined, and loving mother. As her children grew, she wanted nothing more for them than to find such happiness she had had with their father. But in the eyes of a harsh, judgmental society imparting its thoughts on everyone and every match at any given second, she found it difficult to ensure that happiness in her children’s matches.

Nonetheless, she was resolute to find partners that were not only socially acceptable picks but ones who would give her children love and happiness for the rest of their days. Four sons and four daughters brought on a bevy of issues in matchmaking, yet in her old age, after eight children, eight sons and daughters-in-law, 35 grandchildren, and countless great-grandchildren to come, she couldn’t believe the luck she-and her children- had in their lives.

Be that as it may, no one cannot say that the Bridgerton children found love without their fair share of trials and tribulations. But, being their mother, Violet wordlessly found herself taking the blame for those misgivings. As her children married, she reflected on what it took for each one of them to unite with their beloved, and in each instance, it was hard for her to ignore the heartbreaking moments she witnessed: separation, promises of a loveless marriage, downfalls of societal expectations. She often wondered if she had been a better mother, would her children have had to have gone through all they did to find their loves? Would her daughter have entered into marriage understanding what it truly meant for a man and woman to lie together? Would her son have understood that at the end of the day, status does not matter when two people love each other? These questions plagued Violet as she looked back on what all her children went through. Her children reassured her constantly of their praise, love, and devotion for her, yet, as any good mother would, she questioned if she truly had done the best for each of them.

In witnessing her children fall in love, Violet forced herself to recognize her errors and lapses in judgment. Still, sitting in the parlor of her eldest son’s home one Christmas Eve many years after her eldest daughter’s debut into society, she couldn’t ignore that she wouldn’t be there, surrounded by her prodigious family if she wasn’t somewhat of a good mother.

As the sounds of her grandchildren’s laughter filled Aubrey Hall and the caring, tender looks of love between her children and their spouses were snuck throughout the evening, Violet couldn’t help but think back over her children's lives, and of all that occurred to bring her to that moment…


	2. The Piece She Failed About the Ways of Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet Bridgerton made a promise to herself shortly after her husband died. She promised that she would do everything in her power to ensure that all eight of her children felt loved and cherished the way she had with her husband. And blasted, she was going to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter pulls from the book and the tv show, the rest of them will obviously only follow the books since there are no seasons for them yet :) Things in italics are lines directly from the book or tv show and I do not own them. Enjoy!

Before her children had married and had kids of their own, Christmas traditions were not that important to Violet Bridgerton. It didn’t matter what they did or where they were, so long as she was with her children.

As they grew and had families of their own, however, it became increasingly important for her that her family-the entire family- was together during the holiday season. That’s why, after three of her eldest children started having their children, she insisted they establish some order to the season. Anthony, her oldest child, and son, and the current Viscount Bridgerton, offered to host the family at the ancestral home of Aubrey Hall. For several weeks in late December, the Bridgerton clan would gather together, and every year, Violet could not believe her luck. Aside from weddings or christenings, events of which there was likely a Bridgerton or two missing, the Bridgerton Christmas Gathering was the only time Violet was surrounded by her entire brood.

As she sat near the fireplace in one of Aubrey Hall’s many drawing rooms, Violet sighed deeply, and left an awestruck look on her face, something her eldest daughter Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings, couldn’t help but notice.

“Mother, are you feeling alright?” The Duchess asked her mom, who was well into her fourth quarter-century of life.

“Oh yes, my darling,” Violet responded. “Just so happy to be here, surrounded by you all.”

Daphne knew her mother loved and cared for her family, yet she was usually much more subtle in her confessions, tending to tease and prod before admitting her true feelings. As she sat next to her mother and grabbed her hand, Violet intercepted and grabbed her daughter’s hand first.

“You know Daphne, you were my first child to marry.”

“Well yes mother,” Daphne responded with a laugh. “I think that would be quite obvious now as it was nearly 40 years ago.”

“Still, I made so many mistakes in my approach to your preparations for marriage, and I know everything turned out for the best. Yet, I still can’t help but think about it.”

Daphne leaned back in her chair as she saw her mother close her eyes, and knew she was thinking back to 1813, the year Daphne met her husband, Simon Bassett, the Duke of Hastings.

* * *

Violet Bridgerton made a promise to herself shortly after her husband died. She promised that she would do everything in her power to ensure that all eight of her children felt loved and cherished the way she had with her husband. And blasted, she was going to do it.

She had no worries that her children would all find matches, what mattered to her was that they were matches her children wanted to be in. Violet didn’t realize how hard this would be until her eldest daughter Daphne made her debut. Her three eldest children were sons, and they likely would decide on their own when they were ready to wed, though she would meddle as much as she could. Daphne had plenty of interested suitors, yet she knew her daughter hadn’t fallen in love with any of them.

And then the season of 1813 came around, and one Simon Bassett drew not only the eyes of young Miss Bridgerton but that of Lady Bridgerton as well. Not because she was interested in him herself, for heaven's sake, but because she saw the way her daughter looked at him. As cliche as it was, a mother’s instinct was rarely wrong when it came to her daughter.

After the night of Lady Danbury’s ball, Violet could feel a sense of gravitas overcome her daughter. Daphne had returned to her mother after disappearing for a bit. On more than one occasion since Daphne’s reappearance, Violet caught her eldest daughter looking around the ballroom as if she was in a desperate search for a particular face. Nonetheless, she spent the evening trying to introduce Daphne to all of the eligible suitors she could.

That was, until Simon Bassett, the Duke of Hastings, approached and officially introduced himself to young Miss Bridgerton.

“ _I don’t believe I had the chance to make your acquaintance before I left the country, Lady Bridgerton,” Simon said smoothly, “but I am very pleased to do so now.”_

_“As am I.” She motioned to Daphne. “My daughter Daphne.”_

_Simon took Daphne’s gloved hand and laid a scrupulously polite kiss on her knuckles “I am honored to officially make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton.”_

_“Officially?” Lady Bridgerton queried._

Violet questioned why her daughter had not mentioned their earlier meeting, and then after being chided by Daphne for her countless introductions, began to imagine what a pairing her daughter and the Duke would make. She knew of his rakish reputation, but also knew that nothing could change a rake more than the right woman, and she believed her daughter was precisely the right woman. Violet knew that for anything to happen between Daphne and the Duke, they must dance, thus, her stern look at her daughter encouraging such activity. She was not surprised when the Duke asked Daphne to dance and whisked her away.

Less surprising was when the Duke appeared the following afternoon in their drawing-room. Furthermore, in their drawing room with tulips. And oh, how the tulips suited Daphne so. Violet was quick to comment on this and even quicker to shoo out the present suitors. Not only was she determined, but also overt in her actions, and felt no guilt about it at all.

For her daughter and the Duke to properly get to know one another and fall in love, there could not be any other men in the way. Thus, as a mama’s job, she made sure to personally see the likes of whatever gentlemen were present to the front door and out onto the street, in the most gracious of ways, of course.

Violet had spent a good ten minutes escorting the callers out and figured she had given her daughter and the Duke enough privacy as she made her way back to the drawing-room. She was determined to find them wed, but not because of improper circumstances after all.

_“I’m terribly sorry for abandoning you for so long,” she said, “but Mr. Crane’s horse threw a shoe, so naturally I had to accompany him to the stables and find a groom to repair the damage.”_

Her daughter gave her a look of suspicion, but Violet brushed it off. What came next was truly the first thing to shock her that day. The Duke presented her with the flowers. The act astounded her. Yes, this man would do very well for her daughter. She could not believe how well things were going, until her eldest son, the current Viscount Bridgerton, Anthony appeared. She loved her son for his fierce protectiveness of his family, and yet found herself completely annoyed with him for ruining such a moment for his sister.

Anthony was on route to cause a scene, but Violet used her motherly prowess to deescalate the situation, and the Duke and her son moved to the latter’s study, presumably to discuss the apparent courtship between the former and Daphne.

Violet blithely closed her eyes and drifted off into a peaceful interlude of sleep, whilst the fresh smell of the tulips wafted in the air.

When she awoke sometime later, her children informed her that Anthony invited the Duke to their supper that evening. As she tasked her daughter with preparing the younger children, she went into a stupor of planning. It wasn’t until a comment from Daphne about the eligibility of men broke her out of her daze. She more or less accused Violet of just wanting her daughter to be with a titled man.

_“You might find this difficult to believe Daphne, but I don’t want to see you married off to just anyone. I may introduce you to no end of eligible men, but that is only because I would like you to have as many suitors as possible from which to choose a husband.” Violet smiled wistfully. “It is my fondest dream to see you as happy as I was with your father.”_

At the mention of her late husband, Violet removed herself before she could even gauge Daphne’s response to her confession. Talking about Edmund would always be painful, not because she had not properly grieved, but because she so wished he could be there with her to witness their children growing up to find happiness of their own. She dreamed of him every night, and when she woke in the mornings to an empty bed space next to her, she would always take a deep breath and push out the melancholy thoughts. But after confessing her dream to her daughter, she had to seek solace in her bedchamber.

As she sat down at her dressing table, she murmured to herself.

“Oh, Edmund. I know you would know exactly what to do to find happiness for our children.”

She took a few moments to gather herself, before continuing to prepare for the evening’s dinner with her family and the Duke.

The dinner, despite a few imprudent comments from her youngest child, Hyacinth, found Violet even more convinced that the Duke could be the love match she wanted for her daughter. That’s why she found herself inviting him along on the family outing to Greenwich the following weekend, an invitation he did not decline.

Violet did everything in her power to ensure Daphne and the Duke would be able to spend as much time together during the outing as possible, mainly by distracting Anthony from preventing any bonding. She was not ashamed of her manipulations that day, she was quite proud of them.

Everything seemed to be going well until she heard a splash and turned to find Anthony and the Duke soaked, and Gregory, her youngest son, flushed red in the face. Already getting the family treatment, she thought to herself, while stifling laughter so as not to appear improper. Over the next couple of weeks, Violet was pleased to see her daughter and the Duke engaging each other at various events and had a strong feeling that by the end of the season, she would have a son-in-law.

The night of Lady Trowbridge’s ball was an evening of carefree indulgence for Violet. She was happy her daughter seemed so happy, and happily accepted every glass of champagne offered to her. She expected she would wake with quite a headache the next morning. What she did not expect, was the news that Daphne and the Duke were engaged to be married. She figured an engagement would occur by the end of the season, but she did not expect the first she would hear of an engagement would be after it occurred. Surely the Duke would confer with Anthony, who would then inform his mother of impending actions.

More so, something seemed off with Daphne. Her daughter gave the impression of happiness, but Violet saw her subtle looks of despair when she thought no one was looking.

When Anthony implied a hasty engagement and quick wedding were necessary, Violet gathered that something-something physical-had happened between her daughter and the Duke. She did not think Daphne to be compromised, but she appeared exhausted, emotionally that is.

_“Are you alright?” Violet asked._

Daphne smiled, though as her mother, Violet could tell she forced it.

_“I’m just tired,” Daphne replied._

_Violet sat beside her. “I thought you’d be more excited. I know how much you love Simon.”_

This was true. Violet knew what love looked like, and it was all over her daughter’s face. However, she knew love wasn’t sometimes enough. She would do all she could to see to it that Daphne was not just loved but cherished and cared for as well.

The Duke, or Simon as she now referred to him, seeing as he was to be her son-in-law, frequented the Bridgeton’s home less often, something she found odd considering his engagement. She distracted herself, and Daphne with wedding plans and preparations. Nearly everything was taken care of, except one thing.

Violet had many duties as a mother, but none she dreaded more than that of discussing marital relations with her daughters. She knew this was not something she had to worry about with her sons, who, though she detested thinking about it, very likely knew all they needed to about the topic. In the world she lived in, men had the gift of learning by experience. Women, proper societal ladies, on the other hand, learned about these things only when it was necessary, before their wedding.

Going into a wedding night not knowing what is to come was not something she wanted for her daughters, yet she didn’t know how to bring up such a topic. She assumed her daughters, at the very least her eldest daughter, knew some things. Given her age and close relationship with some of the house staff, it was likely Daphne had some knowledge of sexual relations.

Violet knew it was still her responsibility to inform Daphne. So, on the eve of Daphne’s wedding, Violet entered her daughter’s rooms. Why she was so nervous she couldn’t gather. She wanted Daphne’s first time to be special but didn’t know how much was too much. Though she had rehearsed a speech of sorts, after some prodding from Daphne, Violet uttered out what came to mind.

_“You see,” she said haltingly, “there are things you need to know. Things that will occur tomorrow night. Things” -she coughed- “that involve your husband.”_

This was going so poorly, she thought. After some more muttering, she took a deep breath and managed to reveal that on her wedding night, Simon would join Daphne in their bed and that they would engage in certain intimacies. She couldn’t bring herself to actually say what it was.

She heard Daphne gasp and gathered that Daphne knew what she was talking about, before quickly adding on that the marital duties of a wife need not be unpleasant. Daphne tried to ask her some questions, but she reflected, not sure how to proceed.

_“All I really want you to know,” Violet said, the words tumbling out as if she could not wait to be rid of them, “is that it needn’t be unpleasant at all. If two people care for one another-and I believe that the duke cares for you very much-”_

_“And I for him,” Daphne interrupted softly._

_“Of course. Right. Well, you see, given that you do care for each other, it will probably be a very lovely and special moment.”_

She found herself itching to leave the room. Violet thought she must have been causing so much embarrassment to poor Daphne, who surely would figure it out. As she finished and tried to run for the door, Daphne asked her what she was supposed to do during the act. Violet couldn’t possibly say it out loud. She merely told Daphne her husband would know. Daphne kept pestering until Violet firmly raised her voice, which she hadn’t meant to do, she was just frustrated with the situation.

_“But enough! I have told you everything my mother told me. Don’t be a nervous ninny and do it enough so you’ll have a baby.”_

  
And then more questions from Daphne, some of which she was sure she would not want to know the answer to as they related to her mother and father’s intimate moments. She saw her daughter's eyes grow wide as she figured she had realized what her mother was talking about, precisely about how a baby was made.

It was no longer than a minute before she swiftly escaped and prayed she would not have to do that again for a long time. Well, not too long a time, she did hope Eloise would get engaged in due time, but that conversation, that, she could wait for.

The next morning, Violet felt a flurry of emotions, and it wasn’t until Simon and Daphne had said their vows, and she had felt a tear drop from her face, that she realized she had been holding her breath all morning. She had done it! She had married off one of her children, and now just had seven more to go. The afternoon’s wedding reception was filled with cheer, and yes, champagne. Tears of joy fell softly from Violet’s face throughout the day, and when Simon and Daphne took off for Clyvedon, his country home at the end of the day, she was sure her heart had never been fuller.

But then mere weeks later, when her daughter arrived back in London, she knew something was off. Daphne was quiet, rarely smiled, and seemed to not want to tell the world anything. Violet didn't have a chance to speak with Daphne until a garden party, one afternoon. She saw Daphne leave the center of the party for one of the side gardens and followed her.

_“Something troubles you. I know you are a grown woman now, but I am still your mother and you can come to me for advice,” Violet said as she followed Daphne into the garden. “Marriage has its joys, but it also brings with it its special trials.”_

_“In that you are correct,” Daphne replied with a small laugh._

_Violet implored Daphne to share what was bothering her but was met with disdain._

_“Perhaps you will send me off with more vague metaphors and trite remarks,” Daphne started. “Do you know what might have truly helped matters? If your motherly advice had actually prepared me to wed."_

As Daphne accused her mother of setting her off a fool to the realities of married life, Violet clutched her breath. It was at that moment she realized she had made a grave mistake. She wouldn’t understand the specifics until sometime later, but there, standing in that garden, she knew she’d failed her daughter. Something had gone awry in Daphne’s marriage to Simon, and from the sounds of it, Daphne seemed to put some of the blame on her mother. Daphne ran off at the soonest possible moment and it was through conversations with other mothers of the ton, thoughts of her first days of marriage, and that fateful night at the opera.

She saw Daphne run out of her box, and some force of nature, likely motherly instinct, compelled her to follow.

What she came across was perhaps the most heartbreaking thing she had ever witnessed. She cradled her daughter as she cried and could see that her courses arrived. She realized Daphne was disappointed at not being with child, which broke Violet’s heart even more. Once Daphne composed herself, Violent listened intently as she told her everything: the true reason Daphne and Simon married, his claim he could not give her children, her discovery of how children came to be, the current state of her marriage.

Violet had no idea what to say, all she could do was hold her daughter. That evening as Violet laid in bed, she recollected on the evening’s events and found, for one of the first times in her life, she was ashamed that she did not prepare her daughter as she thought she did, and that her daughter was now suffering as a result. Learning Daphne and Simon planned to separate fueled Violet to recompense her previous mistakes and made Violet resolute that these same things did not happen to her other daughters.

She found herself at the Hastings Ball, seeing her daughter, the Duchess, looking hurt and in despair and riled herself up to finally be open, truly open, with Daphne.

Confessing to Daphne that she missed her late husband every day was difficult for Violet because she had prided herself on being a strong mother for her children. She knew at that moment, however, that what Daphne needed was solace.

_“We chose to love each other every single day. It is a choice dearest, one that is never too late to make.”_

Violet knew it would take more than one speech to reconcile with her daughter, but she saw the gears turning in Daphne’s head as she spoke about her and Edmund’s decision to weather each storm that came their way. When the downpour of rain came moments later and she saw her daughter freeze on the dance floor while others left, she sensed that her daughter too would be able to weather whatever storms (present one included) that came her and her husband’s way.

And months later, when her first grandchild was born, Violet knew that despite the mistakes she made with Daphne, things had turned out most wonderfully.

* * *

“Mama,” Daphne said as she gently touched her mother. “What are you thinking about.”

Violet wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she closed her eyes and reminisced about Daphne and Simon’s meeting, but she was touched by her daughter calling her “mama,” a name her daughters rarely used any longer.

“Oh dearest, I just was thinking,” Violet said with a sly smile.

“Yes, I gathered,” Daphne retorted with her laugh. “Dinner should be ready soon, why don’t you come to converse with your family.”

Just as Violet was going to acquiesce her daughter, footsteps approached.

“Daff, mother,” Anthony Bridgerton, the current Viscount Bridgerton said as he nodded in their direction. “I noticed you two missing from the party and thought to come to find you.”

“Oh, my darling boy,” Violet sighed. “You are just like your father.”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?” Anthony asked.

“With that, I am going to go find my grandchildren,” Daphne laughed before leaving her elder brother and mother.

“Mother, what do you mean?” Anthony asked again.

“Oh nothing, darling,” Violet said, but Anthony knew that was not the case….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a chapter roughly every week or so, I'm finishing up college so I am busy, but I love this story and can't wait to write something for each Bridgerton :) Let me know what you think!


	3. The Piece She Failed About What it Means to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Kate seen through Violet's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas scenes that bookend each chapter take place way in the future, and there are literally probably hundreds of people, like great-grandkids and whatnot. I’m not giving it a specific time because I don’t want to do the math of figuring out ages and because it really doesn’t matter, just know, the Bridgerton’s spend every Christmas at Aubrey Hall. I’m also pretending Aubrey Hall is humongous and can house all of them for at least a couple of days. Also in my mind, Violet always knew Anthony was in love with Kate. That’s all.

“You know Anthony, no matter what event we were at, if we were separated, your father wouldn’t last more than 15 minutes before coming to find me,” Violet said to her eldest child. Anthony, with his silver hair and wrinkling skin, though still handsome, was a grandfather himself. Violet liked to imagine it was what her late husband would have looked like had he reached the age her son had. 

“Yes, I do seem to recall that,” he replied. “You know I wish he was here just as much as you do.”

“I do darling, but I know it won’t be long until I am reunited with him.”

“Mother how could you say something like that!” He exclaimed. 

“Oh, pish posh! I only mean, every day I live is another day closer to my death,” she retorted. “I’ve no plans of crossing the great divide until I’ve at least hit 100. But when I do, I know he is the first person that will be waiting for me.”

“I hope so, mother.”

“Of course, I do wish he was here. I’ve always wished he were here. My goodness what I would’ve given for him to be there when you courted Kate,” Violet began. “Mothers know how to handle daughters, but sons, I tell you, Anthony, sons are another story.”

Anthony grunted with a laugh and knew he was in for a story, one he’d heard countless times, mind you, but one he loved to hear because it came from the woman who gave him life and was about the woman who was the love of his life. He sat back as his mother began recalling the day she knew he would get married. 

* * *

Violet Bridgerton was besotted with joy. Her eldest daughter, Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings, had recently informed her that she and her husband, Simon, the Duke of Hastings were to have their first child. 

Oh, how she imagined the little one, her first grandchild, bumbling around in her arms, soaking in all of the delirious love deserved of a babe. 

Daphne’s news brought tremendous joy to Violet, as did the news delivered to her by her eldest son, Anthony. He requested a private audience with her in his study at Bridgerton House one afternoon, a few days after Daphne had done the same thing. It wasn’t unlike Anthony to be so formal with his mother, yet she feared the news he would bring. She couldn’t help her jaw from dropping when she heard what he’d said. 

“Married?” 

“Yes, mother, married,” Anthony cracked. “I don’t know why this should come as such a shock to you, I am the Viscount after all, and I require a Viscountess-not that you are not perfectly doing your duty as the current Viscountess.”

She expected nothing less than for her son to eventually marry and for her to relinquish the duties of Viscountess Bridgerton to a daughter-in-law. That was not what was shocking to Violet. What shocked her, was the suddenness of Anthony’s proclamation. Shortly after her husband’s death, Anthony took on all of the responsibilities of the Viscount, but she also knew, thanks to the gossip of the ton, that he also managed to procure a collection of mistresses and vices. He was always sure to provide for and take care of his family but had never suggested an interest in his own marriage. 

Though her dream was to find all of her children in love matches like her own, Violet figured he would wait as long as possible and that love would be the last thing on his mind. After his mother, brothers, and sisters, duty was the most important thing to Anthony. She knew it would be difficult to find him a match that brought him happiness, due to his tough exterior and unwillingness to be vulnerable. He was rarely in such a way with her, how could he be vulnerable enough to have a young lady fall in love with him? 

“Of course, I knew you’d one day marry,” she responded, “I just didn’t expect you to reach such a decision without actually being betrothed to someone.”

“I will be betrothed, to the diamond of the season.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Mother what is it you are not saying?” He asked rather harshly.

“Oh, nothing, dearest, just that you don’t seem to be excited about the prospect of marriage.”

“Mother I know you and father had the love match of the century, but that will not be the case for me,” Anthony said. “I require a wife because, to sire an heir, I need someone to mother my children. I shall find a beautiful young lady who is witty and intelligent who shall make a fine mother, just as you have.”

Violet feigned acceptance for her son’s decision and after some more mild chatter, he bid her adieu to join Benedict and Colin, two of his younger brothers for a drink at their club. 

She removed herself to her own study and thought about her conversation with Anthony. Her son was guarded, but to refuse to marry for love? She couldn’t fathom how her son would be happy in such a life. Much as she had been sure Daphne would be married by the end of last season, she was sure Anthony would be married by the end of this season. It was her job, she thought wily, in a way only a concerned mother could to ensure he fell in love before he was married. 

~

The Hartside Ball was the opening ball of the season, and Violet knew her son would likely claim whichever young lady seemed to be the most desired for his wife. Because of this, it was no surprise to her when she saw him dancing with Miss Edwina Sheffield. She was a beautiful young girl, seventeen years old and out for her first season. 

She had learned of the girl just that evening, after talking with her mother, Mrs. Mary Sheffield. They were not as well-to-do of a family as the Bridgerton’s, but they were kind and certainly an acceptable family, by society standards. Violet heard murmurs that Edwina was the catch of the season, and through this logic, had gathered she was the girl Anthony would choose to make his bride. Mary had an elder daughter as well, Katharine, who was also making her debut, though from Violet’s observations, was not nearly as popular as her younger sister. 

Her sons managed to evade her for much of the night, after all, she did try to introduce them to any young lady she could. She knew most everyone at the ball but had only met Mrs. Sheffield, and not the Misses Sheffield’s. It wouldn’t be long though, for if Anthony had decided to court and presumably wed Edwina, he would make sure Violet met her. He would never admit to it, but she knew he would not marry someone without his mother’s approval. She would, after all, be replacing Violet as Viscountess Bridgerton. 

Violet usually preferred to spend her time at balls and parties as carefree as possible but seeing her son dance had struck a nerve in her. He tended to remain on the sides of the ballrooms, charming mothers and caring for any of his sisters present. Seeing him make such an effort to support his claims of marriage was strange for Violet. Even stranger was seeing him dance with Katharine, Edwina’s older sister. She gathered he wanted to get to know her sister if he was to marry Edwina, but Violet still had not expected him to make such a large effort at the first ball of the season. 

_He must truly be serious about this,_ she thought to herself. 

Earlier, when Anthony had been dancing with Edwina, Violet watched from the side of the room. He was polite toward Edwina but noticed there were occasional moments of silence between the pair, and that Anthony would often be looking over her shoulder elsewhere in the room as if dancing with her was the last thing he wanted to be doing at the moment. 

But later that evening, when she observed her son dancing with the older Miss Sheffield, things were wildly different. Violet made a mental note that her son had not looked away from Katharine once, his eyes remaining steadfastly on hers. He didn’t appear happy, but Violet could sense an intense passion exuding from her son. Violet was rarely wrong about instincts when it came to her children. When they were young, she knew seconds before she’d hear screaming that a fight broke out or that someone had fallen and hurt themself. These instincts were not wrong when it came to her children’s emotions either. Watching her son dance with Katharine, Violet saw a renewed energy come from within him that she had not seen in years, probably before her husband’s death. Anthony may have decided Edwina was the Sheffield sister for him, but if Violet had her way, she would make sure Katharine was the one he wedded by the end of the season. 

~

The following morning, even though he had his own bachelor’s lodgings, Anthony joined the rest of the Bridgeton’s for breakfast at Bridgerton House, and Violet had a suspicion why. He wanted to inform her of his decision to court Edwina Sheffield, of course. 

After their breakfast had been cleared and the rest of her children scattered off to who knows where, Anthony informed Violet of his plans, which included calling upon all three Sheffield’s with a bouquet. 

“Three bouquets?” she queried. 

“Well, it worked for you last year, did it not?” Anthony retorted. He was of course referring to his brother-in-law and best friend Simon Bassett, Duke of Hastings, calling upon his sister Daphne with a bouquet not only for her but for Violet as well. 

“It did. Why Edwina?” Violet was quick to bring about the more important of her questions. 

“She is pretty, intelligent, kind...she will make a fine Viscountess and mother to my children.” 

“But did you feel a spark with her?” 

“A spark? Mother, no, I did not feel a spark,” he responded sarcastically, trying not to roll his eyes at the woman who birthed him. 

She listened as he informed her of his plans to woo Edwina by wooing his sister, Kate, as Violet learned she preferred to be called. Apparently, Edwina would not marry without Kate’s approval. This was good news to Violet, as she knew her son would find difficulties impressing a girl he was not trying to bed or wed. She may have been his mother, but she knew of his reputation and knew that any well-minded sister would require more than one dance and a bouquet to render approval. Violet gathered that Anthony would wish to spend time courting Edwina, and by circumstance, would have to spend time with Kate as well. Violet was sure he’d realize the passion she was so sure he held for Kate. And she would merely do just a little meddling-well, maybe a lot of meddling, but she wasn’t going to let her son marry the wrong girl. 

~

When her opera night rolled around, Violet made sure to invite Edwina Sheffield, and her mother and sister as well. She had to make it look like she was supportive of her son’s choice, even if she was hoping for a vastly different outcome of his intentions. Inviting his intended was the way to do just that. Anthony had complained of her inviting Kate as well, because of some incident with a dog and water and whatnot, but Violet insisted. It would be rude not to invite the whole family. It was a marvelous ruse. Anthony had been talking about Kate and her bossiness, how insufferable she was, and stubbornness for days and Violet knew his mind was occupied with thoughts of her. Orchestrating opportunities for him to be in Kate’s presence was precisely part of Violet’s plan. 

Sickness was never something she wished upon anyone, but when she received Sheffield's response and found out the younger Miss Sheffield would not be able to attend due to an illness that currently had her confined to bed, Violet couldn’t feign the sly smile that appeared on her face. Now Anthony would only be able to conversate with Kate. Violet had not yet even met Kate, but she knew her son was in love with her. She just knew it. 

The musicale event went off without a hitch, except for the fact that Anthony had clearly been engaged with Maria Rosso, the evening’s main event, before. She knew her son was a Rake, but she had never had to come face to face with any of his conquests. Violet would be sure to see Miss Rosso back to Vienna as quickly as possible. 

Nevertheless, Violet continued to act as a proper hostess, greeting guests and mingling with old friends. She saw Mary and Kate approaching her and took in a deep breath. 

_Finally, they reached the front of the small crowd, and the viscountess grasped Mary’s hand. “Mrs. Sheffield,” she said warmly, “what a delight to see you again. I so enjoyed our meeting at the Hartside ball last week. I am very glad you decided to accept my invitation.”_

_“We would not dream of spending the evening anywhere else,” Mary replied. “And may I present my daughter?” She motioned to Kate, who stepped forward and bobbed a dutiful curtsy._

_“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sheffield,” Violet said._

_“And I am likewise honored,” Kate replied._

Violet introduced the women to her daughter Eloise, who was by her side and made mild chatter about Daphne’s marriage to Simon the previous year. 

_Mary smiled. “You must have been delighted.”_

_“Indeed. He is a duke, but more importantly, he is a good man and loves my daughter. I only hope the rest of my children make such excellent matches.” Violet cocked her head slightly to the side and turned back to Kate. “I understand, Miss Sheffield, that your sister was not able to attend this evening.”_

Mary and Kate detailed Edwina’s illness, but Violet continued to be distracted by her son’s flirting with Maria Rosso. Shortly after, the Sheffield’s said goodbye, and Violet was whisked away by more guests. She tried to keep an eye on both Kate and Anthony, but lost sight of Kate, and soon saw her son leading his flame out of the music room. Violet couldn’t make a scene in front of all her guests but was sure to scold Anthony the following morning. Her mood turned sour and she knew her face gave way to disappointment, but she hoped those in attendance would assume it was due to Edwina’s absence. She was, after all, trying to play the part of a supportive mother. 

~

The next morning, however, Violet found herself with a new plan. She would host a country house party in Kent in a week. Anthony had spent more time at Aubrey Hall than any of his siblings, and she knew he was most himself there. She would invite members of the ton, but especially, she would ensure the Sheffield’s were there. Anthony and Kate would have the best chance of falling in love out in the country. The plans quickly came together, and she and all her children found themselves in Kent preparing for the party. 

While everyone likely knew her intentions of this party were to see Anthony married and though she invited plenty of eligible young ladies, her true goal was for her bumbling idiot of a son to realize his affections for Kate Sheffield. From her brief meeting and countless observations, she knew that if anyone was to breach the walls of her son's guarded heart, it would be Kate. 

The Sheffield’s were among the last to arrive at Aubrey Hall, but Violet made sure to await their arrival. She finally saw them step out of a carriage and bask in the glory of the Bridgerton’s country home. 

_“Mrs. Sheffield!” she called out, crossing over toward them. “How lovely to see you. And Miss Sheffield,” she added, turning to Kate, “I am so glad you were able to join us.”_

_“It was kind of you to invite us,” Kate replied. “And it is truly a pleasure to escape the city for a week.”_

_Violet smiled. “You are a country girl at heart, then?”_

_“I’m afraid so. London is exciting, and always worth a visit, but I do prefer the green fields and fresh air of the countryside.”_

_“My son is much the same way,” Violet said. “Oh, he spends his time in the city, but a mother knows the truth.”_

_“The viscount?” Kate asked doubtfully._

Violet knew it was hard to believe this about Anthony but wanted to make sure Kate understood her son. 

_“Yes, Anthony. We lived here almost exclusively when he was a child. We went to London during the season, of course, since I do love to attend parties and balls, but never for more than a few weeks. It was only after my husband passed away that we moved our primary residence to town.”_

_“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kate murmured._

_Violet turned to her with a wistful expression in her blue eyes. “That is very sweet of you. He has been gone for many years, but I do still miss him each and every day.”_

This was true. Violet did not go a day without thinking of her husband. In this particular moment, she so wished he were here. Anthony worshipped his father, and she knew that if Edmund were around to see his son marry, Anthony would not pick duty over love. And that was all she wanted for him. 

Violet pushed the thought to the back of her head and was introduced to Edwina. Before heading off to their rooms, Kate, with a glimmer of wonder in her eyes, asked Violet if she could explore the gardens. 

_“Then you are a gardener as well?” Lady Bridgerton inquired._

_“Not a very good one,” Kate admitted, “but I do admire the hand of an expert.”_

_The viscountess blushed. “I should be honored if you explored the gardens. They are my pride and joy. I don’t have much a hand in them now, but when Edmund was al—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “That is to say, when I spent more time here, I was always up to my elbows in dirt. It used to drive my mother positively mad.”_

_“And the gardener, too, I imagine,” Kate said._

_Violet’s smile erupted into laughter. “Oh, indeed! He was a terrible sort. Always saying that the only thing women knew about flowers was how to accept them as a gift. But he had the greenest thumb you could ever imagine, so I learned to put up with him.”_

_“And he learned to put up with you?”_

_Violet smiled wickedly. “No, he never did, actually. But I didn’t let that stop me.”_

She saw Kate grin at that comment and could already sense a deep bond with her. 

_“But don’t let me keep you any longer,” Violet said. “Let Rose take you up and get you settled in. And Miss Sheffield,” she said to Kate, “if you like, I should be happy to give you a tour of the gardens later in the week. I’m afraid I’m too busy greeting guests right now, but I would be delighted to make time for you at a later date.”_

_“I would like that, thank you,” Kate said, and then she and Mary and Edwina followed the maid up the stairs._

“Yes, she will be the love of Anthony’s life,” Violet murmured to herself with a contented sigh. 

~

When she entered her home, she saw Anthony approaching. 

_“Was that the Sheffield’s I saw you greeting?”_

_“Indeed it was,” Violet replied. “Such a lovely family, don’t you think?”_

_Anthony just grunted._

_“I’m so glad I invited them.”_

_Anthony said nothing._

_“They were a last-minute addition to the guest list.”_

_“I didn’t realize,” he murmured._

_Violet nodded. “I had to scrounge up three more gentlemen from the village to even the numbers.”_

_“So we may expect the vicar at supper this eve?”_

_“And his brother, who is visiting for a spell, and his son.”_

_“Isn’t young John only sixteen?”_

_Violet shrugged. “I was desperate.”_

She didn’t know what was going on in his mind. 

_“I understand you’ve made the acquaintance of both Sheffield girls,” Violet said._

_Anthony nodded._

_“I find them both delightful myself,” she continued. “They haven’t much in the way of fortune, but I’ve always maintained that when choosing a spouse, fortune is not as important as character, provided, of course, that one isn’t in desperate straits.”_

_“Which I,” Anthony drawled, “as I am sure you are about to point out, am not.”_

_Violet sniffed and shot him a haughty look. “I should not be so quick to mock me, my son. I merely point out the truth. You should be down on your hands and knees thanking your maker every day that you don’t have to marry an heiress. Most men don’t have the luxury of free will when it comes to marriage, you know.”_

_Anthony just smiled. “I should be thanking my maker? Or my mother?”_

_“You are a beast.”_

_He clucked her gently under the chin. “A beast you raised.”_

_“And it wasn’t an easy task,” she muttered. “I can assure you of that.”_

_He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Have fun greeting your guests, Mother.”_

_She scowled at him, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Where are you going?” she asked as he started to move away._

_“For a walk.”_

_“Really?”_

_He turned around, a bit bewildered over her interest. “Yes, really. Is there a problem with that?”_

_“Not at all,” she replied. “Just that you haven’t taken a walk—for the simple sake of taking a walk—in ages.”_

_“I haven’t been in the country in ages,” he commented._

_“True,” she conceded. “In that case, you should really head out to the flower gardens. The early species are just beginning to bloom, and it’s simply spectacular. Like nothing you can ever see in London.”_

_Anthony nodded. “I shall see you for supper.”_

_Violet beamed and waved him off, watching as he disappeared back into his offices, which wrapped around the corner of Aubrey Hall and had French doors leading out to the side lawn._

Her plan was definitely working. 

~

Straight from the mouths of her best servants, Violet learned Anthony and Kate had begrudgingly spent much of their time together, and that the Sheffield’s had even been invited to partake in a game of Pall Mall, a ridiculous game her children had played for years. Violet decided to put her meddling on a hold to see what came of the duo. She heard of the raucous game in which Kate apparently bested Anthony, and she observed them during the evening’s activities, glancing at one another when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They were absolutely in love, they just couldn’t see it yet. 

~

While she expected they loved each other, she did not expect to find her son’s mouth attached to a very precarious part of Kate’s body in the middle of her gardens while out on a stroll with Mary Sheffield and Portia Featherington. She would never castigate her children for expressing their love in passionate ways, but she did expect them to do it somewhere they would not be caught. Christ, she had gone through this with Daphne just a year ago. While her face remained agape, she thought to herself, that her children really were their father’s kids. Edmund could never keep his hands to himself, propriety be damned, and he certainly didn’t care to wait for anything before he and Violet were married. 

But the sight in front of her brought her to a standstill. 

She saw Kate yell “stop” and push Anthony off of her. This was her opening. 

_“Anthony?” Violet gasped, her voice quavering on her son’s name, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing._

_He twisted around. “Mother?”_

_“Anthony, what were you doing?”_

_“She was stung by a bee,” he said grimly._

_“I’m fine,” Kate insisted, then yanked up her dress. “I told him I was fine, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”_

At that moment, Violet understood precisely what was going on. Edmund’s death from a bee sting was something she, nor any of her children, most of all Anthony, could ever seem to get over. She felt her eyes mist over with tears but quickly reeled them in a glaze of understanding. 

_“I see,” she said in a small, sad voice._ She saw the look on Anthony’s face and knew he understood what she was saying. 

The five of them discussed the situation in any manner but calm before it was decided that Anthony and Kate would be married. Violet granted her son and now future daughter-in-law some privacy to, she presumed, discuss the events that had just happened. 

This was the result Violet had hoped for, but she had wanted it to come more traditionally. A realization of love, a simple courtship, a true proposal; that’s what she wished for her son. But, regardless, he had decided to lay his mouth to her bosom in full view of the guests, and despite the reasons for doing so, would now have to proceed as they were. 

That evening, Anthony announced the engagement at dinner. Before retiring for the evening, she pulled her son into her study. 

“All this time I thought you had your eyes on Edwina,” Violet said. 

“I did. She would have made a fine wife, as will Kate,” Anthony responded. “I will care for her and take care of the family we will have.”

“And you will love her?” She saw her son stiffen at the question. 

“It’s late mother, you should head to bed.” 

And with that, he was out of the office and Violet was left frustrated at him for not realizing what a complete imbecile he was. 

~

Violet made sure to attend to Kate’s every need before the wedding, taking her to the modiste, planning the wedding-which was to happen very soon- with her, teaching her about ways of the Bridgerton family. They got on together magnificently, as Violet expected they would. It was not difficult for her to form an attachment to Kate. She even made sure Anthony would properly present her with a betrothal ring. She could tell from the way Kate spoke of her son that she was in love with him, but suspected she was afraid to say so because she thought Anthony did not feel the same way. Violet would do everything in her power to make his feelings known. 

But the wedding happened quickly, so as not to prolong any rumors that might flow around London, and before she knew it, Anthony secluded himself and the new Lady Bridgerton to his bachelor’s lodgings. 

It was weeks before she saw him again. He had an aura to him she had not witnessed before. They were taking tea in the drawing-room, a chance for mother and son to catch up. Her to learn about his first weeks of marriage, and he to learn about her adjustments to now being the dowager viscountess. They chatted mildly for a bit, but Violet needed to ask the question that was on her mind. 

“You love her don’t you?” She saw him breathe deeply before setting down his saucer and cup and then turning to face her. 

“I…. I care for her very deeply.”

“Anthony why won’t you just admit you love her!” Violet exclaimed. She was perturbed by his reluctance to admit feelings. 

“Because if I love her then my death will hurt her!” he exclaimed back.

It was at that moment, Violet finally understood why her son had been so guarded in love. How could she have not understood? When Edmund died, it nearly wrecked her. But she had her children to care for. And Anthony took on the responsibilities his father had left behind. Violet realized he never wanted to subject his wife to the despair she herself had felt. 

“Oh, dearest.” She didn’t need to say anymore or ask any more questions. She just had to tell her son what it meant to be love and be loved. 

“When your father died, I was heartbroken. He was the only man I’d ever loved. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do without him. And every day I wish he were still here,” she grabbed her son's hand. “But while I wish for the impossible, I was loved every day for nearly twenty years. And those twenty years brought me eight beautiful children and a lifetime’s worth of happiness. I cannot begin to understand your fears of death, but I can tell you this: if you were to precede Kate in death, it would hurt her far more for you to die with her thinking you never loved her than for her to live knowing you did love her.” 

She could sense he needed to be alone with his thoughts, so she gently kissed him on the cheek and removed herself. She also sensed that things would change for Anthony after today. 

~

When Anthony handed her the baby, she swelled with pride. This was a feeling she would never tire of, seeing the product of her children and their love. 

“His name is Edmund,” Anthony whispered. “I hope that’s okay.”

Violet choked back her tears as Anthony placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, Anthony, there is nothing that could please me more.”

* * *

Many years later, as Violet finished retelling one of her favorite stories to her son, she realized they were walking out of the drawing-room into the hall. 

“Mother, you know I love you and this story, but we really must make our way to dinner,” Anthony said as he placed a gentle kiss on his mother’s cheek. 

“Brother, the Lady Bridgerton seeks your help assembling a gift,” came a shout from Benedict as he approached the duo in the hall.

“Very well,” Anthony said as he handed Violet off to her second son. “See to it that mother makes it to the dining hall.”

What a night this would be, Violet thought to herself. She had already reminisced about her eldest son’s and daughter’s love stories; it would be her mission to reflect on all of her children’s lives before the holiday was over. 

“Benedict, have I ever told you my first impression of dear Sophie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	4. The Piece She Failed About the Meaning of Status

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedict and Sophie as seen through Violet's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really long because book 3 had a lot of Violet in it, apologies for all the words, unless you like that, then you're welcome! There's a part I didn't write about, because Julia Quinn actually wrote a scene from Violet's perspective, it's the whole jail fiasco so feel free to switch over to that when you get to that part... https://juliaquinn.com/extras/deleted-scene-from-the-bridgertons-happily-ever-after/
> 
> Enjoy!

“Mother, you’ve mentioned plenty of times that you thought Sophie was the most kindhearted girl you’d ever met and that-”

“No, no, my dear Benedict, my first impression of Sophie came the night of my masquerade ball!” Violet exclaimed as her second child, now himself quite an aged man, took his mother’s arm and laced it through his own. He’d been tasked with escorting the dowager viscountess to the dining room. 

Aubrey Hall was a large estate, and it would take some time for Violet, growing frailer as she aged, to arrive at the grand dining hall, even with the assistance of her son. She would take advantage of the journey-like walk and reminiscence for the third time that evening. 

“You’ve never mentioned you saw her that evening?” Benedict inquired. 

“Ah I merely saw her for a few moments,” Violet began. “When you not-so-secretly snuck out to the terrace with her.” 

“Ah I see I have been bested by my own mother,” he laughed. 

“Perhaps, but I remember it so well. I found you in the crowd and then saw her, the lady in silver…”

* * *

Amongst the mamas of the ton, getting a child married off to a veritable and acceptable match was the clear competition of the season. One of the unsaid competitions of the season, however, was throwing the best soiree. 

Whichever ladies’ ball had the best decor, food, and elegance meant that lady had been successful in besting the others. Violet Bridgerton was never one to care too much about this trite contest, but she nevertheless always resolved to throw magnificent parties, if not for the hope of finding a match for one of her children. She’d successfully married off two of her eight children and would not cease until all of them were as happy and in love as she’d been with their father. 

Her decision to host a masquerade was met with delight from the ton. It was not met with delight from her son, Benedict, the second born. She knew he’d amassed his mother's intentions to find him a wonderful young lady. His disdain and poor attitude throughout the evening were a dead give-away. 

Suppressing his feelings was never something Benedict was good at, and as his mother, Violet almost always knew how he felt. So, when she saw him remove himself from conversation with a fine young lady and begin to move out of the ballroom, she quickly intercepted. 

_“Benedict!"_

She saw him stop abruptly and sigh, though he was quick to smile at her. 

_"What can I do for you, Mother?" he asked. "And don't say 'Dance with Hermione Smythe-Smith.' Last time I did that I nearly lost three toes in the process."_

_"I wasn't going to ask anything of the sort," Violet replied. "I was going to ask you to dance with Prudence Featherington."_

_"Have mercy, Mother," he moaned. "She's even worse."_

_"I'm not asking you to marry the chit," she said. "Just dance with her.”_

_Benedict fought a groan. "I'll tell you what," he wheedled. "I'll dance with Penelope Featherington if you keep Prudence at bay."_

_"That'll do," she said._ While nothing was wrong with young Prudence, her sister Penelope was much more to Violet’s liking. Penelope would make a splendid wife to one of her sons. Violet suspected her third son Colin was the one more suited for her, but he preferred to spend his days gallivanting around the globe, so for this night, Benedict would do. 

_"She's over there by the lemonade table," Violet said, "dressed as a leprechaun, poor thing. The color is good for her, but someone really must take her mother in hand next time they venture out to the dressmaker. A more unfortunate costume, I can't imagine."_

_"You obviously haven't seen the mermaid," Benedict murmured._

_She swatted him lightly on the arm. "No poking fun at the guests."_

_"But they make it so easy."_

_She shot him a look of warning before saying, "I'm off to find your sister."_

Violet mingled with guests for several minutes before she heard the crowd begin to murmur. She turned over her shoulder and saw who all of the hushed whispers must have been about. Twinkling starlight adorned a young lady in a rather vintage looking gown-certainly not one of the more recent fashions. 

The woman arrived unescorted and seemingly naive to the attention she’d drawn. Violet didn’t recognize her, but then again, that was the point of a masquerade she supposed. Paying any more attention to the young lady was not something Violet intended to do, seeing as she was getting plenty. But then, she saw Benedict make his way in her direction and divert away the hordes of men who’d approached. 

It wasn’t long after, Violet saw Benedict sweep the mystery girl out of the ballroom and towards the terrace. In all her years of attempts, she had never seen her son so willingly engage with a woman. Much to her chagrin, he was like his elder brother and found women to be play-things, so when he whisked the lady in the silver gown away for a dance, Violet was thrilled with the prospect that he’d found someone respectable of interest. Determined as a mother could be, she would find out who this mystery girl was before the evening was over. 

If she knew her son at all, and she’d wager she did, he would be romancing the young girl at that very moment. Violet wasn’t certain he would remain completely respectable, but she knew he would never do something to risk a lady’s reputation. However, when it came time for the guests to remove their masks and reveal their true identities, Benedict and the girl were nowhere to be found. 

Violet sighed to herself and gathered that perhaps this lady would just be another conquest of her sons. It was likely he hurried her out of the ballroom to have his way with her. It would not be the first time he’d done such a thing at an event hosted by his mother. 

But then, she saw a dash of silver running through the ballroom, and shortly after, her son entered, with a distraught look on his face. He appeared to be searching for someone, no doubt the woman in silver, but Lady Danbury stopped him in his tracks. He escaped quickly. 

She didn’t see him again that evening. 

~

The next morning, Violet was greeted by Benedict not with a kiss on the cheek as usual, but instead by a straight question. 

_“Do you recognize this?"_

He held out a rather old-looking glove inscribed with the initials ‘SLG’. She recognized the crest instantly. 

_"Penwood."_

_"As in 'Earl of?"_

_Violet nodded. "And the G would be for Gunningworth. The title recently passed out of their family, if I recall correctly. The earl died without issue ... oh, it must have been six or seven years ago. The title went to a distant cousin. And," she added with a disapproving nod of her head, "you forgot to dance with Penelope Featherington last night. You're lucky your brother was there to dance in your stead."_

_Benedict fought a groan and tried to ignore her scolding._

_"Who, then, is SLG?"_

_Violet's blue eyes narrowed. "Why are you interested?"_

_"I don't suppose," Benedict said on a groan, "that you will simply answer my question without posing one of your own."_

_She let out a ladylike snort. "You know me far better than that."_

_"Who," Violet asked, "does the glove belong to, Benedict?”_

Of course, Violet had an idea...the mystery woman she witnessed him with last night. But she wouldn’t let in on her knowledge of the encounter just yet. Still, she pushed. 

_“You might as well tell me everything. You know I will figure it out on my own soon enough, and it will be far less embarrassing for you if I don't have to ask any questions.”_

_“I met someone last night at the masquerade," he finally said._

_Violet clapped her hands together with delight. "Really?"_ After eight children, she was quite good at feigning ignorance. 

_"She's the reason I forgot to dance with Penelope."_

_Violet looked nearly ready to die of rapture. "Who? One of Penwood's daughters?" She frowned. "No, that's impossible. He had no daughters. But he did have two stepdaughters." She frowned again. "Although I must say, having met those two girls... well..."_

_"Well, what?"_

_Violet's brow wrinkled as she fumbled for polite words. "Well, I simply wouldn't have guessed you'd be interested in either of them, that's all. But if you are," she added, her face brightening considerably, "then I shall surely invite the dowager countess over for tea. It's the very least I can do."_

_"What now?" he asked._

_"Oh, nothing," Violet said. "Just that... well..."_

_"Spit it out, Mother."_

_She smiled weakly. "Just that I don't particularly like the dowager countess. I've always found her rather cold and ambitious."_

_"Some would say you're ambitious as well, Mother," Benedict pointed out._

_Violet pulled a face. "Of course, I have great ambition that my children marry well and happily, but I am not the sort who'd marry her daughter off to a seventy-year-old man just because he was a duke!"_

_"Did the dowager countess do that?"_

_"No," Violet admitted, "but she would. Whereas I would allow my children to marry paupers if it would bring them happiness."_

_Benedict raised a brow._

_"They would be well-principled and hardworking paupers, of course," Violet explained. "No gamblers need apply."_

And this was true. While Violet hoped for lofty matches for her children, their happiness was the most important thing. She did not care if they fell in love with someone below their rank; so long as that person was a good person. 

_"But you should not concern yourself with me," Violet said, giving her son a sideways look before punching him lightly in the arm._

_"Of course, I must," he said quickly._

_She smiled serenely. "I shall put aside my feelings for the dowager countess if you care for one of her daughters..." She looked up hopefully. "Do you care for one of her daughters?"_

Violet hadn’t met either of the girls, so the lady in silver could have been one of them for all she knew. Though there was a feeling, deep in her heart that told her otherwise. Still, she wanted Benedict to find this girl who had clearly left a mark on his heart. He questioned her some more about the glove and she eventually told him where to find the girls. She suspected his visit would not lead to a heartfelt reunion, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. 

~

Later that evening, when Benedict arrived for dinner, he didn’t utter a word to anyone. Not his siblings, not the staff, not even Violet. She gathered his visit to the Penwood Estate had not gone the way he hoped. 

Pushing him to talk was not the answer, as he likely would just tell her what she wanted to hear, so she resolved to do the only thing she could: be loving and supportive and do everything to uncover the identity of Benedict’s mystery girl. 

~

Finding out the identity of a young lady who failed to provide any personal information proved a difficult task. Violet knew her son was in love by the way he was utterly annoyed at his brother and sister. Whenever the Duke and Duchess of Hastings or Lord and Lady Bridgerton were near him, she noticed it would not be long before he removed himself and grabbed a drink. It was clear to her that her son was heartbroken by a mystery woman he hadn’t seen once in the two years since her masquerade ball and was bothered to be around couples in love. 

Benedict did not live with Violet, as he was far too old and male to live with his mother, though she would have kept him with her as long as he wanted. Nonetheless, he still made an effort to visit nearly every day. One particular day, Benedict informed her that he would be heading out to the country for a “gentlemen’s party,” whatever that was. 

“Whose party?” Violet asked her son. 

“I believe his name is Phillip Cavender,” Benedict told her. “And before you ask how I know him, he’s a friend of a friend of a friend.”

“Are you sure you wish to attend? You’re still not sick are you?”

“Mother, I will be fine. I cannot avoid every social event I am invited to.”

“If you insist.”

Shortly after, Benedict said goodbye to Violet and she was left feeling empty. Over the past two years, she’d felt her heart break for her son numerous times. Since that night of the masquerade, Violet knew her son was not happy. At 30 years old, she was beginning to grow weary that he would ever marry. If only the lady in silver would show up. Violet determined that it was unlikely her son would marry anyone but the mystery girl. As she heard his carriage take off, Violet sighed to herself and found herself thinking of her late husband.

Whenever her children faced problems, Violet would think of Edmund. If he were still alive, they would be able to help their brood together. A lofty task it was to raise and guide eight children through life’s trials and tribulations. An even loftier task was to do it alone for so long. 

Edmund would know exactly what to say to Benedict to heal his heart. Violet couldn’t even fathom it. All she could do was love her son. 

~

Benedict had been gone for over a week and though she wondered where he was, Violet was not worried about him. 

She was working on embroidery as Eloise sat near her anxiously bouncing her legs. 

“What is causing you to shake your legs thus, Eloise?” Violet exasperatedly asked. 

“Mother, do you really not worry where Benedict is?” Eloise asked Violet.

“Eloise, your brother is a grown man who can take care of himself,” Violet started. “I haven’t the fainted clue where he might be now, as the Cavender’s are back in London. However, I trust that he is well and will alert us to his arrival when he returns.” 

Eloise huffed and removed herself to go find Francesca and Hyacinth. Violet was unsure of how many minutes passed until she heard a commotion downstairs, the large front door being pushed open, and the sounds of the butler Wickham approaching it. Guests were not something she particularly welcomed at this moment, though she didn’t know what excuse she could come up with. 

She heard Wickham make his way upstairs. 

“Ma’am, your son has arrived,” he said grimly. 

“Benedict?” Violet exclaimed, trying to contain her excitement that her son was back. 

“Yes, madam,” Wickham responded. “He’s brought with him a guest, Miss Beckett, I believe she is called.”

“Oh,” Violet paused for a moment, pondering why her son would disappear and then return with a girl. However, she was elated to have his presence back and quickly made her way out of the drawing room and she heard Wickham rattle out something about employment for the girl. 

As she made her way down the staircase, she could see her tallest son with a rather petite-looking girl, and it appeared they were bickering. He hadn’t yet noticed her, so she called his attention. 

_“Benedict!"_

The young girl turned her head up toward Violet and her son came to greet her. 

_"Mother," Benedict said. "It is good to see you."_

_"It would be better to see you," she said pertly, "had I known where you were this past week. The last I'd heard you'd gone off to the Cavender party, and then everyone returned without you."_

_"I left the party early," he replied, "then went off to My Cottage."_

_She sighed. "I suppose I can't expect you to notify me of your every movement now that you're thirty years of age."_

_Benedict gave her an indulgent smile._

_She turned to the young girl. "This must be your Miss Beckett."_

_"Indeed," Benedict replied. "She saved my life while I was at My Cottage."_

_Miss Beckett started. "I didn't-"_

_"She did," Benedict cut in smoothly. "I took ill from driving in the rain, and she nursed me to health."_

_“You would have recuperated without me," she insisted._

_"But not," Benedict said, directing his words at his mother, "with such speed or in such comfort."_

_"Weren't the Crabtree’s at home?" Violet asked._

_"Not when we arrived," Benedict replied._

Violet was unsure of the circumstances in which her son had met this girl, and she didn’t want to ask anything out of turn, so she resigned to look at the girl with curiosity, which Benedict picked up on right away. 

_"Miss Beckett had been employed by the Cavenders, but certain circumstances made it impossible for her to stay."_

_"I... see," Violet said unconvincingly._ She had no idea what kind of circumstances would require her son to remove a servant from another man’s property. 

_"Your son saved me from a most unpleasant fate," Miss Beckett said quietly. "I owe him a great deal of thanks."_

Violet understood then exactly what had happened. Clearly, she had raised her son right. Her heart swelled with pride.

And then Benedict looked at the girl with a look Violet had only seen one other time: the night of the masquerade. Only one other woman had caused her son to look so lovingly at them before. 

_"I see," Violet said again, this time with considerably more feeling._

_“I was hoping you might find her a position in your household," Benedict said._

That must have been what she heard Wickham rambling about as she fled the drawing-room. 

_"But not if it's too much trouble," Miss Beckett hastened to add._

_"No," Violet said slowly, her eyes settling on the girl’s face with a curious expression. "No, it wouldn't be any trouble at all, but..."_

Violet was suddenly met with a feeling of Deja-vu. There was something most peculiarly familiar about Miss Beckett. 

_"Have we met?" Violet suddenly asked._

_"I don't think so," The girl said, stammering slightly. "I can't imagine how we could have done."_

_"I'm certain you're right," Violet said with a wave of her hand. "There is something vaguely familiar about you. But I'm sure it's just that I've met someone with similar features. It happens all the time."_

She wanted to brush the feeling off, but something in the bottom of her heart told her she was correct and that she’d seen this girl before. 

_"Especially to me," Benedict said with a crooked smile. Violet looked at her son with obvious affection._

_"It's not my fault all my children ended up looking remarkably alike.”_

_“If the blame can't be placed with you," Benedict asked, "then where may we place it?"_

_"Entirely upon your father," Violet replied jauntily. She turned to the girl. "They all look just like my late husband."_

_"I think your son resembles you."_

_"Do you think?" Violet asked, clasping her hands together with delight. "How lovely. And here I've always just considered myself a vessel for the Bridgerton family."_

There was clearly much she was missing about this story, but Violet already liked Miss Beckett. 

_"Mother!" Benedict said._

_She sighed. "Am I speaking too plainly? I do that more and more in my old age."_

_"You are hardly elderly, Mother," She smiled. "Benedict, why don't you go visit with your sisters while I take your Miss Bennett-"_

_"Beckett," he interrupted._

_"Yes, of course, Beckett," she murmured. "I shall take her upstairs and get her settled in.”_

_“You need only take me to the housekeeper," the girl said._

Violet could tell the girl was uncomfortable with such kindness, and she was determined to figure out why. Besides, Violet needed to find out why her son had been looking at this girl as if she were all of the stars in the sky just moments ago. 

_"Mrs. Watkins is busy, I'm sure," she said. "Besides, I believe we have need for another lady's maid upstairs. Have you any experience in that area?"_

_The girl nodded._

_"Excellent. I thought you might. You speak very well."_

_"My mother was a housekeeper," Miss Beckett said automatically. "She worked for a very generous family and-" She broke off for a moment and Violet saw her glance at Benedict with a nervous look._

_"The family she worked for was very generous," she finally continued, "and they allowed me to share many lessons with the daughters of the house.”_

This was not a common practice, Violet knew. Many servants had young children, but they often were sent to work as soon as they were old enough. Another peculiar thing about Miss Beckett. 

_“I see," Violet said. "That explains a great deal. I find it difficult to believe you've been toiling as a housemaid. You are clearly educated enough to pursue loftier positions."_

_"She reads quite well," Benedict said. "She read to me a great deal during my recuperation."_

_"Do you write, as well?" Violet asked._

_The girl nodded. "My penmanship is quite neat."_

_"Excellent. It is always handy to have an extra pair of hands at my disposal when we are addressing invitations. And we do have a ball coming up later in the summer. I have two girls out this year," she explained to Miss Beckett. "I'm hopeful that one of them will choose a husband before the season is through."_

_"I don't think Eloise wants to marry," Benedict said._

_"Quiet your mouth," Violet said._

_"Such a statement is sacrilege around here," Benedict said to the girl._

_"Don't listen to him," Violet said, walking toward the stairs. "Here, come with me, Miss Beckett. What did you say your given name was?”_

This girl was more than likable, and Violet was sure she would make a fine addition to the staff. Plus, Benedict was clearly besotted with her. The least Violet could do was learn the girl’s name. 

_“Sophia. Sophie."_

_"Come with me, Sophie. I'll introduce you to the girls. And," she added, her nose crinkling with distaste, "we'll find you something new to wear. I cannot have one of our maids dressed so shabbily. A person would think we didn't pay you a fair wage."_

Violet wanted Sophie to feel welcomed and cared for as an employee. 

_"You," Violet said to Benedict. "Wait for me downstairs. We have much to discuss, you and I."_

_"I'm quaking in my boots," he deadpanned._

_"Between him and his brother, I don't know which one of them will kill me first," Violet muttered._

_"Which brother?" Sophie asked._

_"Either. Both. All three. Scoundrels, the lot of them."_

Violet looked at her son warningly, but with love, then escorted Sophie upstairs. Time to learn about Benedict’s new mystery lady. 

~

“You’ve arrived at a rather opportune time actually, Sophie,” Violet said. “One of our maids recently left our employment for another family, the Lady Penwood.” 

Violet heard Sophie stifle a small gasp. Perhaps the girl knew of Lady Penwood’s odious reputation. 

“I see,” Sophie finally said. 

They reached Francesca and Eloise’s chambers. She saw Sophie take in the grand room. 

“Please feel free to get acquainted with the chambers, you’ll be a ladies maid for my middle daughters, Eloise and Francesca.”

“Oh, that is wonderful, Lady Bridgerton,” Sophie exclaimed. “I shall not disappoint you or them.”

“I do not doubt it,” Violet smiled softly. She chatted with Sophie as she explored the room. Sophie came to a stop at Francesca’s desk. Violet saw her eyes scan the book that was laying there. It was a book from France, a gift to Francesca from her brother Colin upon his return from abroad. 

She thought nothing of Sophie glancing at the book at first and then realized Sophie was reading the cover. Which was in French. Violet had never known of an English servant who spoke French. In fact, Sophie was the most polished servant Violet had ever encountered. Benedict must have known more about her than he had let on. She asked Sophie a few more questions and then excused herself while Sophie got more acquainted. 

When she entered the sitting room, Benedict quickly removed his feet from the table and rose to greet her. 

_“I saw your feet on the table," Violet said before he could even open his mouth._

_"I was merely polishing the surface with my boots." She raised her brows, then made her way to a chair and sat down. "All right, Benedict," she said in an extremely no-nonsense voice. "Who is she?"_

_"Miss Beckett, you mean?" Violet gave him one businesslike nod. "I have no idea, save that she worked for the Cavenders and was apparently mistreated by their son."_

_Violet blanched. "Did he ... Oh dear. Was she...”?_

_"I don't think so," Benedict said grimly. "In fact, I'm certain she wasn't. But not for lack of trying on his part."_

_"The poor thing. How lucky for her that you were there to save her."_

At that moment, Benedict froze, as if he were reliving something. Violet saw his jaw clench after a couple of seconds and knew she had to break him out of his haze. It was clear he was thinking of Sophie, and very likely thinking of harm being done to her. Seeing him respond so strongly to that idea was an indication to Violet that Benedict surely felt something deep about the servant girl he’d brought home. 

_“Well," Violet said, "she is not who she says she is. Of that I'm certain."_

_Benedict sat up straight. "Why do you say that?"_

_"She is far too educated to be a housemaid. Her mother's employers may have allowed her to share in some of their daughters' lessons, but all of them? I doubt it. Benedict, the girl speaks French!"_

_"She does?"_

_“Well, I can't be positive," Violet admitted, "but I caught her looking at a book on Francesca's desk that was written in French."_

_"Looking is not the same as reading, Mother."_

_She shot him a peevish look. "I'm telling you, I was looking at the way her eyes were moving. She was reading it."_

They teased each other for a bit more, then Violet began to ponder if Sophie had been a cast-off or illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Benedict discussed it with her but settled that she was penniless, and that no noble family could be so cruel. Violet knew she would have to figure out who Sophie truly was. 

_“But have no fear," she finally said, "I shall discover her identity within a month."_

_"I'd recommend asking Eloise for help," Benedict said dryly._

_Violet nodded thoughtfully. "Good idea. That girl could get Napoleon to spill his secrets."_

_Benedict stood. "I must be going. I'm weary from the road and would like to get home."_

_"You can always avail yourself here."_

_He gave her a half-smile. She liked nothing better than to have her children close at hand._

_"I need to get back to my own lodgings," he said, leaning down and dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for finding a position for Sophie."_

_"Miss Beckett, you mean?" Violet asked, her lips curving slyly._

_"Sophie, Miss Beckett," Benedict said, feigning indifference. "Whatever you wish to call her."_

As he was leaving, Violet broke into a broad smile, which of course he couldn’t see. The reason for her smile was as clear as day. Her son was a damn fool in love. 

~

That afternoon, Violet was set to question Sophie. She asked where she was from, the household her mother worked for, what the family’s name was, what kind of lessons she was given, if she knew French. Violet knew it probably seemed like an interrogation, which of course it was, but she was also genuinely interested in the girl. If her son was truly in love with her as she suspected him to be, Violet wanted to know who Sophie was, to understand why her son had fallen in love. Eloise arrived and introductions were made as the chit chat continued. 

Then the most interesting thing occurred. Violet looked over at Sophie and saw she had a tear in her eye. She’d seen her fair share of tears over the years and gathered that tear was one of both happy and sad. 

Sophie Beckett was an enigma Violet was determined to solve. 

~

Violet made a note to introduce Sophie personally to the remaining Bridgerton’s. It was important they liked her, and she liked them. One also couldn’t help but notice Benedict’s almost incessant present at the house. Violet was used to seeing her son, but she swore he was there for every meal, every teatime, nearly all of the time. This all but confirmed her suspicions he was in love with Sophie. 

As to Sophie being in love with Benedict? Violet pointedly noticed how whenever his name was mentioned in her presence, Sophie would somehow injure herself and appear as if she didn’t know how to breathe. She made sure Sophie was invited to informal tea with her and her daughters, part of her plan was to make Sophie as comfortable as possible. 

One day, when Benedict showed up during teatime and left shortly thereafter, Violet knew it was because dear Sophie had fumbled out just minutes before, and he was surely going to follow her. 

_“I believe that is my cue to leave," Benedict said smoothly._

_"But you just got here," Violet pointed out._ She purposely made herself sound not the least bit upset.

_“I could stay," he said._

_"Oh, no," she said, lifting her teacup to her lips even though it was empty. "Don't let us keep you if you're busy.”_

_“I'll go, then," he said slowly, backing toward the door._

_"Go," she said, shooing him away. "Enjoy yourself.”_

And then, when he was almost out of earshot:

_“I thought he'd never leave."_

Oh, how Violet wished Benedict would fess up that he loved the girl. However, she had a sinking suspicion that he was held back by what he thought society would think. Violet was determined to right that wrong. 

~ 

Violet saw the disheveled Sophie arrived back that evening and knew something had happened. Benedict didn’t come around for a full fortnight. Whatever had happened, it had hurt them both. Violet had to find a solution, and quickly, or she was afraid her son would fall into the stupor he’d experienced following the two years after her masquerade and the lady in silver. 

When Benedict made his reappearance, she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but she knew it would take some prodding. Violet rattled on about some girl he could marry, hoping it would break him out of his silent reverie. 

_“Mother," Benedict said abruptly._

_She cocked her head slightly to the side, her eyes intrigued and perhaps a bit surprised. "Yes?"_

_"When you met Father-"_

_"It happened in an instant," she said softly, knowing exactly what he meant._

_"So, you knew that he was the one?"_

_She smiled, and her eyes took on a faraway, misty look. "Oh, I wouldn't have admitted it," she said. "At least not right away. I fancied myself a practical sort. I'd always scoffed at the notion of love at first sight."_

_She paused for a moment, and was no longer in the room with Benedict, but at some long-ago ball, meeting his father for the first time._

_"But I knew."_

_"From the first moment you saw him?"_

_"Well, from the first time we spoke, at least." She took his offered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, smiling sheepishly, as if embarrassed by her tears.”_

They discussed her husband, and then he said what she knew he had wanted to say for a long time. 

_“What happens," he asked, "when one falls in love with someone unsuitable?"_

_"Someone unsuitable," she repeated._

_Benedict nodded painfully._

_When she spoke, she appeared to be choosing her words carefully. "What do you mean by unsuitable?"_

_"Someone ..." He stopped, paused. "Someone like me probably shouldn't marry."_

_"Someone perhaps who is not of our social class?"_

_“He glanced at a painting on the wall. "Someone like that.”_

Of course, she knew exactly who he was talking about. Glee filled her heart as her suspicions were confirmed, but so did sorrow, as she knew it would be a difficult life for Sophie and Benedict together. Society was the harshest critic of all. 

_“I would have to say," she said, "that I love you very much and will support you in all things." She cleared her throat. "If indeed we are talking about you.”_

He nodded. She warned him of how he might be ostracized, but that if he truly loved someone below his class, that was the most important thing. 

_“Should you decide to join your life with someone not of our class, I will of course support you in every possible manner."_

_Benedict looked up sharply._

_"You are my son," she said simply. "I would give my life for you."_

_He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t._

_"I certainly wouldn't banish you for marrying someone unsuitable."_

_"Thank you," he said._

_Violet sighed, loudly enough to regain his full attention. She looked tired, wistful. "I wish your father were here," she said._

_"You don't say that very often," he said quietly._

_"I always wish your father were here." She closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Always.”_

The look on his face told Violet all she needed to know. He would confess his love to Sophie, and they would be together. Her eyes started swelling up with tears, for any of her children finding happiness was all she wanted. And she rather liked Sophie, she would make an excellent daughter-in-law. 

~

Then her world was crushed. 

Sophie arrived at Violet's office not terribly long after Benedict had been there. At first, Violet thought she was coming to greet her as Benedict’s fiancé. But the look on Sophie’s face said otherwise. 

_“I'm afraid I must resign my position here," Sophie said._

Violet rose out of her seat instantly. 

_"But why? Aren't you happy? Have any of the girls been mistreating you?"_

_"No, no," Sophie said. "That could not be further from the truth. Your daughters are so lovely-in heart as well as in appearance. I've never-That is to say, no one has ever-"_

_"What is it, Sophie?"_

The girl looked utterly devastated. 

_"It's Benedict, isn't it?"_

_Sophie's head snapped up._

_Violet smiled sadly. "It's obvious that there is some feeling between you," she said gently, answering the question that was in Sophie’s eyes._

_“You are," she said, her eyes never leaving Sophie's face, "the sort of woman I would like for my son. Our acquaintance has not been a long one, but I know your character and I know your heart._

Extrapolating her thoughts, Violet confessed to Sophie, and Sophie in turn to Violet, what they both knew, that Sophie was not who she said she was. Violet insisted it would be hard, but that Sophie and Benedict could be together. But Sophie was adamant she needed to leave, and it broke Violet’s heart.

She would not force the girl to stay. If Sophie had reached this decision, Violet needed to respect it. Still, she insisted on Sophie using the Bridgerton carriage and taking some money. A young girl alone was not safe. Besides, Benedict would never forgive her if she let Sophie leave without any sort of protection. And this way, the coachmen could inform her where Sophie went. 

The sob that had begun to form in Violet’s throat fought for release as Sophie profusely and sincerely thanked Violet for everything. 

What a shame it would be for Benedict to lose this woman. She insisted Sophie wait for her while she retrieved some things for her journey, but when Violet came back, Sophie was long gone. How she wished she wouldn’t have to be the one to tell Benedict. 

~

Violet could not believe the afternoon she’d had. Benedict arrived asking where Sophie was, then Eloise and Francesca burst in with news that Sophie had been apprehended and taken to jail. Though she knew Benedict could remedy the situation himself, she was his mother, it was her job to protect him, and by proxy, protect those he loved. Going with him to the jail was the easiest decision she’d ever made. Humiliating the vile Lady Penwood was the most fun she’d ever had at another’s expense. The woman deserved it. 

Once Sophie had been released from jail, Violet fully intended to take Sophie and her step-sister back to Number 5, Bruton Street. Sophie was to officially become a Bridgerton, and without a mother, Violet would take on the motherly roles of wedding preparation. She’d learned from Benedict that Sophie had been the lady in silver from the masquerade, which astounded Violet, yet made her heart soar. 

“Mother, I would like to speak to Sophie alone, in the privacy of my home,” Benedict said as Violet began to drag the girls towards her home. She stopped in her tracks. 

“Is that wise?” Violet knew her son wanted a proper reunion with his fiancée, but they were not yet wed. Yet, the look of deep seriousness and need plastered across his face pulled at her. “Just have her home by seven.”

Of course, Sophie was not home at seven. Nor was she home at all that night. Violet awoke to the sounds of a trotting horse early the next morning. Peering out the window, she saw her son help Sophie off the horse and give her a rather passionate kiss before leaving. Violet thought to chastise them, but after all they’d been through, she could let a night of premarital passion be unspoken about. 

~

Violet loved all of her grandchildren equally, but in secret, she would confess that little Violet Bridgerton had a special place in her grandma’s heart. For the elder Violet had been so involved in pushing little Violet’s parents together, they found it only fitting that their daughter should be named after her grandmother. And for that, she was tremendously grateful. 

* * *

“So, what did you think of her that night of the masquerade?” Benedict pulled his mother out of her musing. 

“That she would be the love of your life, my dear son,” Violet said wistfully. 

Benedict pressed a kiss to her cheek as they reached the dining hall. The only other person who’d already arrived there was Colin, who rose to greet his brother and mother. 

He did not yet know what he was in for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought :)


	5. The Piece She Failed About the Value of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin and Penelope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything Marina/Colin that happened on the show does not exist in my world so there is zero mention of her. Italicized writing is JQ's. Enjoy!

Violet was always pleased to see her third son, Colin. Having spent much of his young adult life traveling around the world, there was so much time Violet thought she had to make up for with him. As she and Benedict entered the dining room she rushed as much as she could in her old age to greet him. 

“Oh, Colin, what a joy it is to see you!” She said as he kissed her cheek. 

“Mother you’ve seen me all week,” Colin said shaking his head with a laugh. “Every time you see me you act as if it’s been years when it’s usually just been minutes or hours.”

“Let her be, dear brother,” Benedict clapped his brother on the back. “It seems our mother is in quite a sentimental mood this evening.”

“Sentimental?” Colin questioned. Violet just looked at her two sons as if they were the finest diamonds she’d ever seen. 

“Where is the rest of the family?” Benedict asked his brother, assuming more Bridgertons would be in the dining room. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Kate announced dinner would be served shortly and I assumed that meant now, so I made my way here immediately,” Colin shrugged. 

Violet laughed, knowing her constantly hungry son would have of course been the first to the dining hall. 

“Benedict, why don’t you go find the rest of the family and see about getting them to make their way here so your brother does not have to wait any longer for food,” she said as she gripped their hands. “Colin and I will ensconce ourselves here while we wait.” 

“Of course, mother,” Benedict kissed her on the cheek and made leave. 

“And how are you tonight, mother?” Colin asked as he helped Violet sit down at the dining table. 

“Wonderful, darling,” Violet told him. “I’ve found myself reminiscing a bit tonight.”

“Is that so?” he laughed. 

“Well, you see, Colin, of all my children, I was most surprised you got married.”

“Mother!”

“Listen to me, I never, in my wildest dreams, believed you would end up where you are now…”

* * *

Violet Bridgerton was delighted at her current life. Three of her children found themselves in love-filled unions, and between them, she found herself with ten grandchildren, and the eleventh on the way. Playing the role of the doting grandmother was something Violet was more than content to do. 

However, that didn’t mean she was not still on a mission to marry her remaining children off. That mission was not as intense as it had once been. With three happily married children, Violet was not so eager to marry the remainders off if they weren’t ready. 

Eloise had rejected too many proposals for Violet’s liking, but she would never force her daughter to marry someone she didn’t want to. Francesca was married and widowed, and having lived through that herself, Violet would not force her to remarry if she were not ready. Hyacinth, at twenty-one years old, was still young and had time. Gregory had just finished up his studies at Cambridge and was not yet mature enough to marry. She knew a time would come for her the younger half of her children to find their happily ever after. 

But Colin, at thirty-three years old, had squandered Violet’s hopes and dreams of all her children ever finding a match. His elder brothers were wed and became fathers before they reached that age, illuminating to her that her third son was perhaps the most difficult to find a match for. He much preferred to spend his time out of England, traveling all around the globe in pursuit of aimless wander. 

Marriage was not a thing that seemed to be on Colin’s mind. She knew he was not as much of a rake as her elder sons (something she wished she didn’t know), but she also knew he was not going to marry if he was not in love. This brought Violet happiness, as she wanted nothing less than that for her beloved children. Still, Colin had never given any indication that he had ever been in love, and Violet was beginning to doubt he ever would be. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to shape situations befitting romance and love for her son. 

If Violet could have her pick of who Colin was to marry, it would absolutely have been Penelope Featherington. Violet and Edmund were always friendly to the Featherington family, but it wasn’t until later on, when both Edmund and Mrs. Featherington’s husband passed, Violet routinely made an effort in their friendship. 

Portia, Penelope’s mother, was not the greatest company, but having also been widowed rather young, Violet was eager for some solace, which Portia provided. Besides, they had children similarly aged, so it was a natural fit. 

Penelope and Colin met in Hyde Park many years ago, when both were still enthralled by the years of teenhood, and Violet distinctly remembered the moment. Penelope, her mother, and two older sisters had been on a walk in the park, where she and Daphne were doing the same. Portia always found a way to make conversation with Violet. 

“Lady Bridgerton, it’s a fine day out is it not?”

“Indeed it is, Mrs. Featherington,” Violet replied. “Prudence, Philipa, Penelope, you are all looking lovely today.” 

Violet would always remember how the older girls graciously accepted her compliment, but Penelope, her face lit up as if it was the first time she’d ever heard her name and the word ‘lovely’ in the same sentence. Recalling her days as a shy young lady, long before Edmund, Violet felt for Penelope. It was not thinking you were the girl no one noticed. 

Conversation with the Featheringtons remained idle until a gush of wind occurred and before Violet knew it, Penelope’s bonnet had somehow wound up covering the face of Colin, who’d ridden by, knocking him off his horse. She saw Penelope look deeply ashamed, but Colin, her most compassionate child, brushed off the incident with a laugh and sincere look of forgiveness towards Penelope. It was not missed by Violet how much that seemed to mean to the young girl. She knew how easy it was for a young girl’s heart to be captured, and her son’s kindness towards a girl who didn’t often receive it was likely enough to seal the deal for the girl in question. 

From that moment on, Violet was always keen to pay mind to Penelope, ensuring one of her sons, but especially Colin danced with her at the various balls they attended. No girl should feel she was not worth even one single dance. Penelope was kind and smart, the two things she wished for in a partner for Colin, but he was too busy ‘finding himself’ around the world. This made Violet care for Penelope even more. She could tell how little loved by Portia Penelope felt, and did everything in her power to make up for that love herself. Encouraging a friendship between Penelope and Eloise, inviting Penelope over for tea, lending her whichever books she wanted, these were all done in the hopes of bringing Penelope some peace. And in her prayers, she’d make sure to throw in a message to God about Colin, praying he would fall in love someday, and that it would be with Penelope. 

~

“Mother!” Violet heard a rather unladylike shout echo through her home. Not long after, the owner of the shouting voice found her in the sitting room. Unsurprisingly, the voice belonged to Eloise. 

“Yes, Eloise, what is so urgent you must raise your voice in such a way?” she spoke with scrutiny, but the smile on her face showed she didn’t really mind. 

“Colin is home!” Eloise exclaimed. “I saw his carriage from the ship arrive out front just two minutes ago.” And with that, Eloise excitedly ran out of the room down the stairs. 

“What? I thought he was not due back for another week!” Violet said as she made her way to follow her daughter. 

But, when she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she was greeted by her tanned son, who had been gone for some three months. His eyes lit up when he saw her. 

“Mother, I have missed you,” he said, kissing her cheek. 

“And I have missed you, my darling boy,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek back. 

“I am 33 years old, surely I am no longer a boy,” he laughed. 

“And yet, you still act as though you are but a boy, so I presume I shall keep calling you my boy,” she grabbed his arm and guided him toward the drawing-room, as Eloise shouted thousands of questions at him. 

Though she missed him terribly when he was gone, his return home always filled Violet with so much happiness. 

“El, I cannot possibly answer all of those questions at once,” he said as the family sat down. 

“Well then answer the most important ones,” Eloise said exasperatedly, “like how was Greece?”

“I wouldn’t know, I found myself in Cyprus instead,” he answered. 

“Cyprus? Whatever for?” Violet asked. 

“The war in Greece got worse as my ship traveled, it was either sail on to Cyprus or turn around and go back to London.”

“And of course you chose to not come home,” Violet said, though she couldn’t bring herself to make him feel bad about the decision. 

“Of course! There is too much world to see for me to spend all my time in England.”

Violet was so pleased to have her son home and insisted tea be brought out. 

“Could we perhaps do it later, mother?” Colin asked. “I’d like to return to my own lodgings and reacquaint myself through a much-needed nap.” 

“Of course, my dear. It will give me time to arrange for tea for the entire family.”

And with that, he was off to his apartments, and Eloise rushed out the door, mentioning something about Penelope. 

Oh, Penelope. Violet knew she’d be delighted to hear of Colin’s return. Aside from the rest of the Bridgertons, Violet knew Penelope was always the most excited for Colin’s return. She would make sure Colin paid a visit to her, or if not, that they danced with each other at Violet’s upcoming birthday soiree. 

Anthony was persistent that they throw her a birthday party, but she was not eager to do so. Violet never loved having all of the attention, but when Anthony told her they would leak her true age (58!) to Lady Whistledown, she obliged her children’s requests.

Anthony and Kate hosted the ball at Bridgerton House, claiming it was only right to honor her birthday there. Violet fully intended to spend the ball finding ways to get Colin and Penelope to spend time with one another, but Anthony, ever the proud son and viscount he was, wouldn’t leave her side. He made sure to greet all of the guests with her and even danced with her several times. She loved all of her children, but sometimes, she just wished she could slap them away when they were distracting her from more important manners. 

Despite Anthony badgering her and taking away all her attention for the evening, Violet still found ways to accomplish her goals. 

When Colin arrived at the ball, his greeting to her was met with a quick “Look dear, there is Penelope over by the dessert table, you really should go say hello to her!” and she pushed him off. 

He turned back to her with a confused look but kept walking. Violet knew Penelope and Colin formed a great friendship over the years, and Violet knew the best love stories started with a pair of great friends. It was only natural she should encourage her son to go say hello to a  _ friend. _

Violet was pleased to see the pair not only dance together but remain at each other’s side as they were greeted in conversation by Lady Danbury. Murmurings of some dare from Lady Danbury soon filled the ballroom, but Violet was dragged by Anthony too far away from her Colin, Penelope, and the circle of guests who’d gathered around them to hear anything more about it or observe Colin and Penelope. She would find out sooner rather than later if perhaps a seed had been planted that would soon flourish and grow. 

~

Afternoon tea with her family was one of Violet’s favorite pastimes. She enjoyed it most when all of her children and their families were present, but that was not always possible. On the Monday following her birthday ball, only Eloise, Hyacinth, and Kate were present, along with her granddaughter Charlotte. Penelope was sure to show up as well, as she often did, seeing as Violet maintained her desire to include Penelope. Coincidentally, Violet also mentioned tea to Colin. Well, maybe it was not a coincidence. It was certainly on purpose. 

Penelope and Colin arrived together, which had not been part of Violet’s plan, though she was pleased nonetheless. 

_ "Look who I bumped into in Berkeley Square," Colin said.  _

_ "Penelope," Violet said with a warm smile, "do sit down. The tea is still nice and hot, and Cook made her famous butter biscuits."  _

_ Colin made a beeline for the food, barely pausing to acknowledge his sisters.  _

_ Penelope followed Violet’s wave to a nearby chair and took a seat.  _

_ "Biscuits are good," Hyacinth said, thrusting a plate in her direction.  _

_ "Hyacinth," Violet said in a vaguely disapproving voice, "do try to speak in complete sentences."  _

_ Hyacinth looked at her mother with a surprised expression. "Biscuits. Are. Good." She cocked her head to the side. "Noun. Verb. Adjective."  _

_ "Hyacinth."  _

Violet tried to look sternly at her youngest child, but even she resigned that it was rather funny. 

_ "Noun. Verb. Adjective," Colin said, wiping a crumb from his grinning face. "Sentence. Is. Correct."  _

_ “If you're barely literate," Kate retorted, reaching for a biscuit. "These are good," she said to Penelope, a sheepish smile crossing her face. "This one's my fourth."  _

_ “I love you, Colin," Hyacinth said, ignoring Kate completely.  _

_ "Of course you do," he murmured.  _

Violet loved these moments with her family, when they were themselves, not worried about what society would think. Their humor and candor with one another kept her young inside. She was pleased that Penelope got to witness it too, for she knew it was quite the opposite atmosphere in the Featherington home. 

Her children joked around some more, then the conversation moved to Lady Whistledown. Violet had never cared too much about the identity of the writer, her family had been treated fairly well in the column. Still, when Colin suggested one of his sisters might be the infamous town gossip, she was unsettled, not because she did not want them to be Lady Whistledown, but because she surely should have known if they were. Motherly intuition was rarely wrong, and her intuition did not land on any of her children being Lady Whistledown. 

She tuned out most of the conversation, jutting in only to chastise Hyacinth for wanting to search for Lady Whistledown’s identity. And of course to chide Colin for making a snide remark about Eloise’s unmarried status. 

_ “Oh, no, Mother," Eloise said, "I don't mind. I'm perfectly comfortable as an old maid." She gave Colin a rather superior look. "I'd much rather be a spinster than be married to a bore. As,” she added with a flourish, "would Penelope!"  _

Violet saw Penelope’s spine straighten as she said “Er, yes. Of course.” Something about Penelope’s admission was not believable. While she believed Penelope would be okay never marrying, Violet wasn’t so sure the girl was completely content as she made it seem either. 

The conversation shifted back to discussions of Lady Whistledown, but Violet could only really notice the glances her son and Penelope shot toward the other when they weren’t looking. 

~

Also noticeable, was the large wrap around Colin’s hand later that week. When Violet questioned where the injury had been sustained, he was quick to evade her. 

“Nothing but a fencing mishap, mother,” he said, moving his hands behind his back. 

“Colin you have been fencing for nearly twenty years and have never once been injured,” she retorted, not believing him for one second. 

“Never mind it mother, I am alright, and that is what you are truly asking, is it not?” 

She sighed, but dropped the topic, as Colin clearly did not wish to discuss it anymore. But later, during dinner, when Eloise mentioned Penelope, Violet observed her son gently clasp his injured hand at the reference to Penelope. How odd. 

~

The Macclesfield Ball was sure to be the event of the season, which Violet knew. What she did not expect, was the announcement that Lady Whistledown was going to retire. Violet did not feel any particular way, except maybe relieved. Perhaps now her children would stop seeking out answers they should not have been seeking out, and family announcements, like impending grandchildren, would not be leaked to the rest of the ton. 

Eloise remained home ill, which worried Violet, but her daughter assured her things were fine. Nevertheless, ever since she heard from Wickam that Eloise and Colin engaged in a tuft, the worry was constant. It was not like her children to fight with each other, not seriously. Violet did not plan to make news of Eloise’s illness public, but Penelope was her best friend, so when the young lady greeted her and Hyacinth at the Macclesfield’s, she of course revealed why Eloise was absent. 

Hyacinth informed Penelope of the quarrel between her siblings, and Violet saw Penelope’s face change as she asked “She quarreled with Colin? When?”

Violet’s maternal instincts kicked in as she tilted her head to the side and asked Penelope if anything was wrong. The girl had quite a strong reaction to hearing of a sibling quarrel. 

_ “I'm fine," Penelope said. "I'm just worried about Eloise."  _

Violet knew there was more to it than that, but didn’t have a chance to push any further as Penelope hastened away to Lady Danbury. 

~

Sometime after the ball, Violet received a message from her son to gather the family for dinner, saying that he had an important announcement to make and that an extra seat be placed by him. All but Benedict and Sophie, who were still out in the country, and Francesca, who’d returned to Scotland, were present for the dinner. Colin had yet to arrive, but the remaining Bridgertons were all present. 

“So Colin really did not say why he requested us all at dinner?” Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings asked Violet. 

“No dear, he did not,” Violet replied. “He just said it was urgent and that as many members of the family be present as possible.”

“Do you think he has an illness of some sort?” Hyacinth asked. 

“Hyacinth!” exclaimed at least four different voices. 

They heard the front door of Number 5 open and all sat up straight as Colin entered the dining room. Just behind him was Penelope. 

“Pen? What are you doing here?” Eloise asked before anyone else had the chance. “Colin, what is she doing here?”

Violet was not upset that Penelope was there, however, it was curious she’d arrived with Colin. The solemnity and haste of his note, coupled with Penelope’s appearance led Violet to quickly deduce what was going on. 

Colin pulled out one of the unoccupied chairs and helped Penelope into it before he sat down. Penelope looked as if she was about to throw up. 

“Brother? You did not answer Eloise,” Anthony said. “What is your big news? And why is Penelope here?” 

Her children were not being rude, Penelope was a friend to all of them. However, when a family dinner was called, it was rare for anyone not with the surname of Bridgerton or spouse of a Bridgerton to be there. The shock on her children’s faces was merely confusion at the situation. 

Colin took a deep breath and then grabbed Penelope’s hand. 

“Penelope is my news,” Colin smiled. “I asked her to marry me and she accepted.” 

There was a moment of silence, but only just a moment, and then a raucous echo of cheers. Everyone was talking at once, except for Violet, the tears in her eyes and sob in her throat prevented her. Colin caught sight of her and quickly rose from his seat. 

“Mother are you unhappy?” he asked. Violet knew none of her children would ever wed someone she did not approve of. But oh how wrong her son was. She caught her breath and then spoke. 

“Quite the opposite, dear,” she said. “I am beyond happy. I just cannot fathom how it took you this long.”

Penelope breathed a sigh of relief and Violet could see the tension release from her body. 

“Welcome to the family, Penelope,” Violet said to her, “though I believe you have been a part of it for some time now.” 

The rest of the Bridgertons nodded in agreement and it was maybe one of the greatest family dinners ever held. 

~

Violet was eager to plan another wedding, it had been six years since a child of hers was wed. She and Portia agreed the wedding would occur in one month, which meant she had a month to spend planning a wonderful affair for her son and soon to be daughter-in-law. 

A few days after the announcement, Violet drug Colin out to be fitted for a wedding outfit. 

As they were waiting in the store for the tailor, Violet leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“Darling, though I do not know the circumstances of which you and Penelope came to be together, nor do I need to,” she started, “I am rather overjoyed with your decision. You know how fond I am of Penelope, and I truly do not think there is a better match in existence for you.”

She’d been emotional when her other children got married, but something about Colin, the one child of hers she thought would maybe never wed, was a whole new thing. Colin took her hand in his. 

“I am glad to hear it, mother,” he said. “I could not marry anyone you did not love yourself.”

Violet perked up and looked at him. He definitely had said the word ‘love,’ and though love often arrived during a marriage, it was not always present at the onset. 

“So you do love her?” she asked him. At first, he looked bashful, but then a large smile grew over his face. 

That silent confession gave Violet enough happiness to last her the rest of her life. 

~

Throwing engagement balls was a favorite activity of Violet’s. The rest of the ton would see that not only was she successful in securing happiness for another child, but it was sure to be one of the most decadent parties of the year. Better yet, Benedict and Sophie and their children came to London. Though Francesca was missing, it warmed Violet’s heart to have nearly all of those she loved in her presence. 

She was in the best of spirits watching her son stick to his fiance's side for the entire evening. In fact, the only time he’d bothered to leave Penelope was to dance with Violet, an honor she was proud to have. 

Things were going splendidly until some messenger boys arrived. 

_ “Lady Whistledown's final column!" they all yelled. "Read it now! Read the truth."  _

Violet had not been paying much mind to the Whistledown drama, she heard about it all from her daughters, there was no need for her to pay attention to who was claiming to be the anonymous columnist or what bets were going around. 

She followed Anthony and Kate over to the couple of the ball, hastily trying to keep up. 

_ “I don't think anyone is going to listen to Anthony's toast now," Violet said, glancing about the room. The buzz of activity was relentless. Errant news sheets still floated in the air, and all about them, people were slipping on the ones that had already landed on the floor. _

It did not bother her that the engagement ball was interrupted by Lady Whistledown. What bothered her was how bothered Colin looked. She knew her son like she knew the alphabet, and something was amiss with him. 

_ “Colin?" She said. "Are you well? You look a bit odd."  _

_ "Make the toast," Colin said, turning to Anthony. "Penelope isn't feeling well, and I need to take her home."  _

_ "You're not feeling well?" Eloise asked Penelope. "What's wrong? You didn't say anything."  _

_ "A bit of a headache, I'm afraid."  _

_ "Yes, yes, Anthony," Violet said, "do go ahead and make the toast now so that Colin and Penelope may have their dance. She really can't leave until you do.” _

Clearly, the two of them wanted to get away, and as the mother, it was her job to allow them their respite. Anthony, as head of the family, made the celebratory toast, and then Colin and Penelope took to the dance floor. 

Violet lost sight of them after the floor was flooded with other couples and did not see them again that night. 

~

The next morning, when he arranged for a meeting with her and Portia, she thought maybe she misread the situation the previous night. 

“How soon can the wedding occur?” 

“The wedding is in one month,” Portia began. “Why on-”

“I should tell you, Penelope and I have loved each other for a long time,” Colin interjected, “but we did not confess this to one another until recently.”

Violet looked at her son with confusion, urging him to go on. 

“You see when one realizes this,” he said awkwardly, “there is often a lot of... _ passion... _ involved.”

“Oh,” was all Violet could mutter. “I see.”

Just once, she wanted a proper engagement for one of her children. Aside from Francesca’s, which was only a few short weeks, all of Violet’s children found themselves engaged for no more than a week due to the scandalous situations they found themselves in. Leave it to Violet Bridgerton to have the most concupiscent children in England. But, she understood what Colin was saying, and convinced Portia, who was adamantly protesting, that moving the wedding up would be the best thing. 

It wasn’t until she heard the pastor announce the new Mr. and Mrs. Bridgerton that Violet took a deep breath. Though she was overjoyed at their union, a part of her still doubted Colin would truly marry. It was rather a good thing he wanted to move the wedding up because it meant less time for her to stress about him. Whenever one of her children wed, a lightness overtook her. There was someone else to take care of them, in addition to her. Daphne had Simon, Anthony had Kate, Benedict had Sophie, and now Colin had Penelope. A mother’s greatest dream was for all of her children to be loved and cared for. She was now halfway to her dream. 

~

The note arrived the evening of Daphne’s ball. It was from Colin, with nothing but a few words. Violet had been preparing herself and her daughters for the ball when a messenger arrived with a note from Colin. 

“My carriage will pick you, Eloise, and Hyacinth up. Penelope will be inside. You are to escort her to Daphne’s ball and stick to her like  glue all evening. I shall meet you all there. Colin.” 

Violet had many questions but clearly would not be receiving any answers until later that evening. She managed to get Eloise and Hyacinth refocused on dressing for the ball, and before they knew it, they saw a carriage pull up. Eloise and Hyacinth rushed outside as she followed behind. As she reached the carriage, she could hear her daughters quarreling.

_ Violet poked her head in, "Are they quarreling?" she asked Penelope.  _

_ "Just a little," Penelope replied.  _

_ Violet sat next to Hyacinth across from Penelope and Eloise. "Very well, it's not as if I could stop them, anyway. But do tell, what did Colin mean when he instructed us to stick to you like glue?"  _

_ "I'm sure I don't know."  _

_ Violet's eyes narrowed, assessing Penelope’s honesty. "He was quite emphatic. He underlined the word glue, you know."  _

_ “I know," Penelope replied, just as Eloise said, "I told her."  _

_ "He underlined it twice," Hyacinth added. "If his ink had been any darker, I'm sure I would have had to go out and slaughter a horse myself." _

_ "Hyacinth!" Violet exclaimed. _

Violet enjoyed the carriage ride with her daughters immensely, joking around with them. She could sense they were all full of tension and wanted them to be comfortable. The ride was going well until Eloise informed the group that she “was working on it,” about marriage. 

_ “What?" The word's volume was rather amplified by the fact that it exploded from three mouths at once.  _

_ "That's all I'm going to say," Eloise said, and in such a tone of voice that they all knew she meant it.  _

_ "I will get to the bottom of this" Hyacinth assured her mother and Penelope.  _

_ "I'm sure you will," Violet replied.  _

_ Penelope turned to Eloise and said, "You don't stand a chance."  _

_ Eloise just lifted her chin in the air and looked out the window. "We're here," she announced.  _

They took in the sight of Daphne’s home, Hastings House. Hyacinth of course made quippy remarks, and Violet prayed she would someday find someone who could handle her, in the best and most loving way possible. 

_ “I don't see Colin here yet," Eloise said, craning her neck.  _

_ "No?" Penelope scanned the room. "That's surprising."  _

_ "Did he tell you that he would be here before you arrived?"  _

_ "No," Penelope replied, "but for some reason, I rather thought he would."  _

_ Violet patted her arm. "I'm sure he'll be here soon, Penelope. And then we'll all know what this big secret is that has him insisting we remain by your side. Not," she added hastily, her eyes widening with alarm, "that we view it as any sort of chore. You know we adore your company."  _

_ Penelope gave her a reassuring smile. "I know. The feeling is mutual."  _

_ There were only a few people ahead of them in the receiving line, so it wasn't very long before they were able to greet Daphne and her husband Simon.  _

The Duke and Duchess had apparently received a note regarding Penelope as well. Violet could not comprehend what her son was up to, but clearly, it was serious if each member of the family was notified. After greeting her daughter and son-in-law, the foursome moved along. Eloise quickly evaded her glue duties, but Violet was determined to keep by Penelope’s side all evening. 

Colin appeared nearly an hour into the party, kissing her hand before sliding in next to Penelope and wrapping an arm around her waist. It was also a joy for Violet to see her children be openly affectionate with their spouses. 

_ “Well?" Hyacinth demanded.  _

_ Colin merely quirked a brow.  _

_ "Are you going to tell us?" she persisted.  _

_ "All in good time, dear sister."  _

_ "You're a wretched, wretched man," Hyacinth grumbled.  _

_ "I say," Colin murmured, looking about, "what happened to Eloise?"  _

_ "That's a very good question," Hyacinth muttered, just as Penelope said, "I'm sure she'll be back soon."  _

_ He nodded, not looking terribly interested. "Mother," he said, turning toward Violet, "how have you been?"  _

_ "You've been sending cryptic notes all over town," Violet demanded, "and you want to know how I've been?"  _

_ He smiled. "Yes."  _

_ Violet actually started wagging her finger at him, something she'd forbidden her own children from ever doing in public.  _

_ "Oh, no, you don't, Colin Bridgerton. You are not going to get out of explaining yourself. I am your mother. Your mother!" _

_ "I am aware of the relation," he murmured.  _

_ "You are not going to waltz in here and distract me with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile."  _

_ “You think my smile is beguiling?"  _

_ "Colin!"  _

_ "But," he acceded, "you did make an excellent point."  _

_ Violet blinked. "I did?"  _

_ "Yes. About the waltz." He cocked his head slightly to the side. "I believe I hear one beginning."  _

_ "I don't hear anything," Hyacinth said.  _

_ "Don't you? Pity." He grabbed Penelope's hand. "Come along, wife. I do believe this is our dance."  _

_ "But no one is dancing," Hyacinth ground out.  _

_ He flashed her a satisfied smile. "They will be."  _

And with that, Colin and Penelope were gone, and Violet still had no idea what was going on. Not long after, she heard Simon silence the orchestrate and direct the guests to look up at one of the balconies. To her shock, Colin and Penelope were standing there, Colin with a proud look on his face, and Penelope, one of utter horror. Violet wondered what on earth could be going on. 

Her son lauded into a toast to his new wife, which he finished with a rather passionate kiss. Violet knew she should be abashed, but she truly loved seeing her son so happy. And then Colin announced, in front of quite nearly everyone in the ton, that Penelope was Lady Whistledown. 

Of course. It all made sense. Penelope was smart, witty, and was present at every social event of the season. And of course, the things Lady Whistledown revealed about the Bridgertons! Penelope would have known of those too. Violet was not angry. She was impressed. And quite proud. She was broken out of her contemplation by the sound of slow clapping. Lady Danbury. Then her son, Anthony, then Simon. 

Violet’s face broke out into a wide smile and she too, along with the rest of the Bridgertons, began fiercely clapping. Soon, the entire ballroom was clapping and cheering. Colin and Penelope left not long after.  _ And no one saw them for several days.  _

_ ~ _

When Colin’s first book was published, Violet felt immense delight. Watching her children accomplish their dreams was the most satisfying thing. But more than feeling satisfied, Violet felt happy. Happy that her son had fallen in love with Penelope, someone who kept him on the ground while he flew away with his dreams. 

* * *

“So you see, I never quite thought you would get married, and then Penelope came along,” Violet finished her story. 

“And we are all better for it, right mother?” Colin repeated the phrase he’d heard his mother say about his wife many times. 

“That we are.”

Noise from the hall began to crop up, and soon the dining hall began filling with more Bridgertons. Colin left his mother to greet his wife, and Eloise sat down where he’d been. 

“Mother, I swear I have not seen you at all tonight,” she began. “It’s as if my siblings have been hogging your attention.”

“You’ve no idea, my dear,” Violet smirked as she gently touched Eloise’s cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know what you thought and give it a fav :)


	6. The Piece She Failed About Existing as a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eloise and Phillip through Violet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun and hard to write because there's not a lot of Violet in the book. Italicized writing is JQ's. Enjoy!

“Mother I swear you do not make sense sometimes,” Eloise laughed at Violet, but in an endearing way only a witty daughter could. 

“Truly, Eloise,” Violet responded, “I have found myself spending much of the evening thinking about you all when you were young.”

“Ah thinking back to the days when we were rambunctious children?”

“More like thinking back to when  _ you  _ were rather hesitant to get married,” Violet said as she took a sip of water. 

“Is that so?” Eloise said as the rest of the family began to sit down at the table. Violet turned to face her daughter and Eloise knew she was in for it, for Violet loved to remind Eloise how her marriage almost killed her. 

~

There had never been an expectation for Violet that there would be zero issues in getting her children married off. She expected some bumps and bruises along the way, but she never expected one of her children to become a spinster. The coarse way the ton spoke about unmarried women of a certain age had always bothered Violet. She wished for a world someday where women did not have to rely on their marriage to a man or their beauty to be someone of value. However, that was not the world she lived in, and because of that, she desperately wanted Eloise to marry if only so the harsh judgment of society would cease. 

Whether Eloise ever married or not, one thing was certain: Violet would love her no matter what. While she wished for her daughter’s happiness, she knew Eloise would be perfectly content to remain unmarried, and there was a part of Violet that secretly loved the idea of one of her children being with her for the rest of her life. Every time one flew the nest, a little piece of her heart broke. Selfishness was not in Violet’s style, however, so she would still do everything in her power to find the perfect match for Eloise. 

By the time the sixth proposal was rejected, Violet was not sure what more she could do. Eloise’s happiness was the most important thing, but six rejected proposals? At almost 30 years old? Violet thought perhaps Eloise truly would remain unmarried and live with Violet for the rest of her life. 

It had been nearly six years since one of her children had been wed, so the rush of Colin and Penelope’s engagement and wedding overtook Violet with joy. The night of Daphne’s ball, where Colin revealed Penelope’s big secret, was a night filled with emotion. So much so, that Violet forgot about Eloise, just for a little bit. Eloise had left Violet, Hyacinth, and Penelope earlier in the evening, and when Violet realized she hadn’t seen her daughter since, a slight panic engulfed her. 

Surely Eloise had just gone outside for some air or to the nursery to be with her nieces and nephews. She never had loved balls. Still, Violet needed to ask around and figure out where her daughter was. 

Her first inclination would have been to ask Penelope, Eloise’s best friend, but she and Colin had left the ball shortly after their announcement. Had Francesca been at the ball instead of in Scotland, she would have been the next person Violet asked. Being only a year apart in birth gave the two girls some intrinsic connection. 

With her two best sources of Eloise-information absent, Violet resigned to find the rest of her children and ask them about Eloise’s whereabouts. 

“Hyacinth,” Violet turned to her youngest, who had been by her side much of the night, “where did your sister say she was going to earlier? I feel as though we haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

“As if I am Eloise’s keeper, mother,” Hyacinth said, “I rather thought that was your job as her mother.”

“Hyacinth!” Violet exclaimed though she knew her daughter had a temperament for sarcasm. The ball seemed to be wrapping up, the Lady Whistledown revelation spurning people to rush home and consider the evening’s events. 

It was not difficult to spot the remaining Bridgertons, which clearly alluded to Violet that Eloise was indeed gone. Her face must have turned pale white because the rest of her children quickly rushed over. 

Anthony reached her first and grabbed her arm before she could faint. 

“Mother, what is the matter,” he said with concern, “You look sickly.”

“Anthony, have you seen Eloise?” she quickly asked. 

“Yes, earlier, but I must say I was focused on Colin much of the evening so I haven’t seen her in a bit,” he responded. 

“Why are you asking about her whereabouts? Has something happened to her?” Daphne asked, the concern of an older sister and a mother herself exhibited. 

Violet couldn’t answer as her breathing became more scarce. Hyacinth answered for her, her earlier sarcasm wiped from her face. 

“Eloise left mother and me with Penelope quite early on in the ball,” she explained to her siblings, “In the excitement of the evening, we were never reunited.”

Benedict quickly interjected before worry could wash over anyone else’s face. 

“I’m sure she took a coach back to Number 5,” he said looking at his mother, “You know how she detests social functions.”

“That may be true, but she would not have left without saying anything to any of us,” Gregory said. 

Violet was sure now she would faint, she had never lost one of her children before. Granted, her children were all grown adults, but in a family as tight-knit as theirs, one did not disappear without notice. 

“Everyone, relax,” Anthony said. Violet was thankful for him at that moment, as the head of the family for over 15 years now, he knew what to do in a family crisis. “Mother, we will go back with you to Number 5 and see if Eloise has indeed returned home.”

Violet didn’t hear what was said next, as her mind raced with her worst fears. She gathered that Anthony directed his wife and Sophie to stay at Hastings House, while he and his two present brothers escorted Violet back to her home. 

When they arrived, the first thing she did was shout “Eloise” into the home. There was no response, but the household staff quickly rushed to the foyer to see what was the matter. She heard Benedict explain what had happened as Violet raced around the home searching everywhere for Eloise. When she couldn’t find her anywhere, it felt as if a literal piece of Violet’s heart had been ripped from her chest. 

Gregory found her in Eloise’s room, sobbing on the floor. 

“Mother,” she felt his hand touch her back gently, “Let me get you to bed.” 

“I cannot go to bed, Gregory,” she said louder than she intended, “I need to find Eloise.”

“Anthony is on top of it as we speak,” Gregory assured her. “He’s sent messengers all over the city, but right now, the best thing you can do is go to bed.” 

Violet didn’t have it in her to fight with her youngest son and she felt so heavy she wasn’t sure she could even move. So, she resigned to let Gregory lead her to her chambers, and not two seconds after her head hit the pillow, she was fast asleep. 

That night, her slumber was plagued with nightmares of what could be happening to her daughter. In one of them, she saw nothing but Eloise’s face begging for her mother to come to get her. The next day was spent in a panic and haze, much of which Violet would never recall. Not knowing where her child was was like being plunged into freezing water, unsure how to move your body and get out. Her slumber that evening was much like the prior nights. 

The next morning, Violet could only think of one thing to do. 

“Mother that is ridiculous,” Anthony said when he heard of her plan. Anthony and Benedict had been out all night in search of Eloise, and Violet now found her two eldest children confronting her early in her parlor. 

“Why?” She retorted. “If someone has taken Eloise, surely they are expecting some sort of ransom. It’s not unknown that the Bridgerton estate is quite vast.”

Her sons looked at each other as if they were waiting for the other to reply. Finally, Violet decided that she’d wasted enough time dawdling and headed for the front entrance so she could leave for the bank. 

Anthony and Benedict quickly followed after her, with Benedict exclaiming “Mother, wait!”

She whirled around and found herself face to face with the two of them. 

“My sons, I know you think I am being overly dramatic,” she said, “but you are fathers yourselves now. You must be able to imagine what this is like for me.”

Anthony noticeably swallowed hard and Benedict closed his eyes. 

“Ah so you do understand,” she said, squeezing both of their hands, “how you would do anything to get your child back.”

And with that, she turned around and went to her carriage, knowing her sons would no longer try to stop her from leaving. 

The ride to the bank was no more than 10 minutes, but as she waited for her destination, Violet contemplated what she was to say. Surely she couldn’t say she required ransom money when she didn’t even know if things would result in such a way. The bank was run by an old friend of hers and Edmunds, Mr. William Cheshire. Violet rarely made way to the make nowadays, as Anthony was the primary fiduciary as Lord Bridgerton. How was she to explain to a friend she did not have regular contact with why she was making an appearance at the bank?

As her coach arrived, she didn’t even wait for the footmen to help her out, instead launching herself down onto the curb and rushing into the bank. The building had opened only minutes prior and there was no one else present except for her and the secretary. 

“I need to see Mr. Cheshire, immediately,” Violet demanded to the young secretary, who quickly ran to the back of the building. Mr. Cheshire emerged moments later, with a look of curiosity covering his face. 

“Lady Bridgerton, how splendid it is to see you,” he said, making way to greet her. Violet did not want to be rude, but she was not interested in exchanging pleasantries, not when her daughter could be fighting for her life. 

“Mr. Cheshire, I need to ask you something,” she said, hoping he would sense the urgency in her voice. 

“Of course,” he nodded, “come, join me in my office.”

She was careful to not sit too quickly, she did not want to cause any alarm. It was not known by anyone outside the family that Eloise was missing, and until Violet knew exactly what happened, she wanted to keep it that way. 

“What can I do for you?” Mr. Cheshire asked. 

Violet thought for a moment as she hadn’t established what she was going to ask. She sat up straight and stiff. 

“If I were to require access to my family’s funds quickly, is everything in order?”

“Excuse me?”

“If a situation were to arise where I needed to withdraw a substantial sum of money, is there anything I need to prepare for?”

Mr. Cheshire stared at her a moment and Violet was sure he was going to launch into some sort of interrogation, for she couldn’t imagine this was a common question he was asked, especially by a woman. But instead, the man cleared his throat and folded his hands. 

“Everything is in order, Lady Bridgerton,” he started. “Your husband was most abreast when it came to finances, and your son has been the same way as well. Should you need to make an emergency withdrawal, everything is in order.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” she said, rising from her seat. 

“Lady Bridgerton, might I ask if everything is alright?” 

Violet had turned around and was prepared to hastily exit, but stopped to quickly answer Mr. Cheshire. 

“You might,” she responded, “Everything is alright. I am merely thinking about the future. Good day, Mr. Cheshire.” 

Before she could hear his response, she swiftly fled to her carriage. When she arrived back at Number 5, her children and their spouses were all gathered waiting for her. There was a retching feeling deep inside her with the absence of Eloise. 

“Mother!” Colin said when he saw her. She hadn’t seen her son and his new wife since before she’d realized Eloise was gone. “We only just received Anthony’s message and rushed over here, I am so sorry.”

Though she did not intend to, Violet snapped. 

“Do not speak to me as if she is already dead!” The room grew silent as they all waited with bated breath to see what she would say next. 

“I am sorry, dear,” Violet said, taking a seat. “The past 12 hours have been utterly horrendous for me and I did not mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s alright mother,” Colin told her sweetly, grasping her shoulder. 

“I trust your mission went well?” Anthony questioned her. 

“Indeed,” she said. Seeing the inquisitive looks from her remaining children, Violet quickly shifted the conversation. “Has anyone found anything that might help us locate Eloise?”

“I’m afraid not, Violet,” Kate spoke up. “Sophie and I scoured all the correspondences we could find, but nothing indicated where she is.”

“Has she mentioned anything odd to you lately mother,” Daphne asked. “Perhaps she has some secret hobby she didn’t wish for us to know of.” 

Violet thought back to all of her recent conversations with Eloise, but nothing out of the ordinary came to mind. There had been no signs that her daughter would go missing or at least none Violet had noticed. If she’d missed something, she would never forgive herself. 

Colin answered for her, jolting upright as if he had been struck by a grand idea. 

“Ink! Ever since I arrived back in England, nearly every time I saw Eloise her fingertips were stained with ink.”

Violet could recall her daughter’s hands blackened by ink more recently. She hadn’t questioned it, as Eloise had always been prone to writing, slipping notes to her when she was younger or writing to her various siblings on different occasions. She listened as Colin continued. 

“I questioned her about it just several weeks ago,” he said. “I suspected she was Lady Whistledown, but as we all now know, that is not the case.”

Violet heard Daphne ask if Eloise had left a letter, to which Hyacinth replied she did not. 

“Has anyone checked her room? Perhaps there is a clue there,” Benedict offered, and Violet couldn’t help but feel some slight annoyance at his allusion to Eloise’s disappearance being some sort of mystery to solve. 

“I did not thoroughly search it,” she said. “I would not know where to begin, that girl has 28 years' worth of life in that room.”

“Perhaps Penelope could search Eloise’s room?” Sophie suggested. “You two are the closest of friends after all and if anyone were to know where to look it would be you.”

Violet could feel herself shaking her head enthusiastically. Penelope was her daughter's best friend and surely would have luck searching for a hint of Eloise’s whereabouts. 

“Of course,” Penelope replied and quickly removed herself to head up to Eloise’s room. Violet saw Anthony motion for the rest of her sons to follow him out into the hall, while Daphne, Hyacinth, Kate, and Sophie joined in closer to her. They were calling for tea and asking her if she was alright, but all Violet could think to do was stare at the stairs, watching for Penelope to return with news. 

And then she did. Some 20 minutes after she first ascended the stairs, Penelope came racing back down them with a letter and dried flower in her hand. 

“I think I know where Eloise has gone!” 

It was as if the weight of the world lifted off Violet’s shoulders at that moment. There were a commotion and flurry of questions, but Violet directed her eyes directly to Penelope’s and asked her to go on. 

“I believe she has traveled to a place called Romney Hall to meet one Phillip Crane,” Penelope said. 

“Let me see that,” Anthony said, grabbing the letter out of Penelope’s hands. As soon as he lifted the letter down, Violet reached out her hand, silently asking her son to hand over the letter. 

_ My dear Miss Bridgerton— _

_ We have been corresponding now for quite some time, and although we have never formally met, I feel as if I know you. I hope you feel the same. _

_ Forgive me if I am too bold, but I am writing to invite you to visit me here at Romney Hall. It is my hope that after a suitable period of time, we might decide that we will suit, and you will consent to be my wife. _

_ You will, of course, be properly chaperoned. If you accept my invitation, I will make immediate plans to bring my widowed aunt to Romney Hall. _

_ I do hope you will consider my proposal. _

_ Yours, as always, _

_ Phillip Crane _

Had Eloise run away to a man? This would be the last thing Violet expected. Well, as she thought about it, it actually was just quite the thing Eloise would do. But still, her daughter out to have known better than to run to a man without so much as a word to her family. 

“Benedict, Romney Hall is not far from you, is it not?” Anthony asked. 

“Only an hour,” Benedict replied. 

“We will leave at once to retrieve our sister,” Anthony said, “And meet this man who dared suggested she join him.” 

Violet knew Anthony would be the one to bring back Eloise, as head of the family of course, but a part of her wanted to join him, if only because it would reunite her with her daughter sooner. But no, Violet knew she needed to wait and let her son handle this. Her aging body would slow down what needed to be a hasty journey. There was no guarantee Romney Hall was where Eloise was after all. If it turned out she was not there, they would quickly have to move on. 

“Benedict, Colin, you will join me,” Anthony said “Our sister could be in danger with whoever this man is and it is our responsibility to handle him.”

“I’m coming too!” Gregory quipped, “I’m her brother as well.”

While she did not fear for their safety, Violet worried for the poor soul who would meet the wrath of her four sons. 

“Very well,” Anthony said. “We will leave immediately.” 

Everyone began to move about the room, preparing for departure, knowing the journey would take at least a couple of days. The Bridgerton men were to return with Sophie and Benedict and their children to My Cottage, then the brothers would travel to Romney Hall. Before they left, Violet was informed by Anthony that Kate and Daphne were to check in on her and help her with whatever she needed in his absence and that he would send word as soon as he could. 

Hours after they left, Violet felt compelled to do something. Kate and Daphne had hardly let her lift a finger, she knew they likely worried she’d topple over from all of the furor. Still, she couldn’t not do anything. 

If she would not be there to see to her daughter’s safety, she needed to send along a message. Violet had little idea what might have possessed Eloise to run away, but if it was at all a matter of the heart, she needed her daughter to know she was supported. After all, it was her greatest wish to see her children happy. So she did what Eloise would respond to best; she wrote a letter and sent a messenger to Wiltshire, hoping it would arrive at Benedict and Sophie’s house in time. It merely said:

_ “I hope you are well. Please remember that you are my daughter and you will always be my daughter. I love you.” _

_ ~ _

The next couple of days were agony for Violet, not hearing anything about Eloise or her sons until Colin and Gregory arrived back in London. They informed her that Eloise was to wed Sir Phillip Crane, as soon as Anthony could manage it. She was relieved to hear that Sir Phillip was a good man and that he had even taken the arrival of four protective brothers as well as he could. And much to Violet’s delight, he even had children, twins! 

Violet adored her grandchildren and certainly would welcome two new ones to her family with no questions asked. 

But the one thing she did not know was whether her daughter was in love. Colin informed her that Eloise ran to Romney Hall without informing Sir Phillip, and thus a chaperone was not present. The brothers all agreed that the only proper thing to do was for Eloise and Sir Phillip to marry as soon as possible. Violet agreed of course and word soon arrived from Anthony that the wedding was to take place at Romney Hall. 

Violet and the Bridgertons who were still in London made their way out to the country for the wedding. It was small, as small as a Bridgerton wedding can be after all. Seeing her daughter alive and breathing was all Violet could ask for, so the circumstances of how she found herself in the country for a wedding were of no concern to Violet. She liked Sir Phillip, he was a good man and seemed to care deeply for his children and her daughter. A finer husband she could not wish for her daughter. Still, Violet did not know if love was present between the pair. 

In the afternoon, following the reception, Violet felt at peace. Five of her children were now married, and there they were, with their spouses, loved and cared for. Her now 12 grandchildren were enamored by the country estate, and it pleased Violet deeply that Oliver and Amanda seemed to enjoy their new cousins. They truly were the most splendid surprise and upon meeting them, Violet insisted they call her grandmama. 

That evening was the first chance Violet had alone with her daughter since the wedding. Everything had been such a rush, they hadn’t had a chance to speak one-on-one. 

Violet found herself in her daughter’s new bedchamber, Eloise no longer Bridgerton by name but instead Crane. She knew it was expected that she discuss certain things with Eloise, but it was never something she enjoyed. She distracted herself from the impending conversation by tucking away Eloise’s trousseau. 

_ “I should complain that I’m being denied my proper moment of glory as the mother of the bride,” Violet said to her daughter as she folded her lacy veil and placed it gently on top of a bureau, “but in truth I’m just happy to see you a bride.” _

_ Eloise smiled gently at her mother. “You’d quite despaired of it, hadn’t you?” _

_ “Quite.” But then she cocked her head to the side and added, “Actually, no. I always thought you might surprise us in the end. You frequently do.” _

While she had rather resigned that Eloise would not marry, there was always a bit of her that knew, if, given the right man, her daughter would be the best of wives and best of women. The rejected proposals did not matter now. Eloise was married and all Violet could do was hope that Phillip was the man her daughter would love. 

_ “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” Eloise whispered. _

_ Violet gazed at her with a wise expression. “My children never disappoint me,” she said softly. “They merely . . . astonish me. I believe I like it that way.” _

And this was true. Nothing her children could ever do would disappoint Violet. She loved them too much to ever be ashamed of their actions. This was something she obviously had not expressed enough, as Eloise lunged forward to hug her. It was a hug of a young child, desperate for their mother to soothe them. Violet found herself close to tears at the thought of her grown, resilient, fiercely witty daughter still needing her. 

_ “There, there,” Violet said.  _ It had been a long time since she embraced one of her children so. 

_ “Now,” she said, her face turning pink. “Now, then.” _

_ “Mother?” Eloise murmured.  _

_ “I dread this,” Violet muttered.  _ Now was as good a time as Violet would have to say what she needed to say to Eloise. 

_ “Mother?”  _

_ Violet took a deep, fortifying breath. “We have to have a little talk.” She leaned back, looked her daughter in the eye, then added, “Do we have to have a little talk?” _

Eloise was 28, had two sisters who had been married, and several friends who were also married. Violet was not naive to think that Eloise did not know what to expect from a wedding night. She almost hoped she knew, because then it would be less awkward for Violet. 

There was even a chance, though she would never admit it to anyone, that Eloise had already experienced the intimacies of marriage. 

_ “Uhhh . . . I haven’t . . . ah . . . If you mean . . . That is to say, I’m still . . .” _

_ “Excellent,” Violet said with a heartfelt sigh. “But do you—that is to say, are you aware . . . ?” _

_ “Yes,” Eloise said quickly. “I don’t believe I need anything explained.” _

_ “Excellent,” Violet said again, her sigh even more heartfelt. “I must say, I do detest this part of motherhood. I can’t even recall what I said to Daphne, just that I spent the entire time blushing and stammering, and honestly, I have no idea if she left the encounter any better informed than when she arrived.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “Probably not, I’m afraid.” _

Her talk with Daphne had always been one of her largest regrets. 

_ “She seems to have adapted to married life quite well,” Eloise murmured. _

_ “Yes, she has. Hasn’t she?” Violet said brightly. “Four little children and a husband who dotes upon her. One certainly can’t hope for more.” _

_ “What did you say to Francesca?” Eloise asked. _

_ “I beg your pardon?” _

_ “Francesca,” Eloise repeated. “What did you say to her when she married? You mentioned Daphne, but not Francesca.” _

_ Violet’s blue eyes clouded, as they always did when she thought of her third daughter, widowed so young. “You know Francesca. I expect she could have told me a thing or two.” _

_ Eloise gasped. _

_ “I don’t mean it that way, of course,” Violet hastened to add. “Francesca was as innocent as . . . well, as innocent as you are, I imagine.” _

Violet began to play with the hem of one of Eloise’s dresses, unsure how she wound up talking about the sex life of one of her daughters with a different daughter. 

_ “But you know Francesca,” Violet continued, shrugging and looking back up when she realized that there was nothing she could do about the hem. “She’s so sly and knowing. I expect she bribed some poor housemaid into explaining it all to her years earlier.” _

Violet saw the small look of concern on Eloise’s face and presumed her suspicions were correct, that at least one of her daughters knew of intimacies before marriage. 

_ Violet smiled wistfully, then reached up and touched her daughter’s cheekbone, right near the corner of her eye. The skin was still slightly discolored, but the purple had faded through blue and green to a rather sickly (but certainly less unsightly) shade of yellow. “Are you certain you’ll be happy?” she asked. _

The bruise had not come from the hands of Phillip, Violet was assured. But there was a pain in her daughter’s eyes, one that seemed to come from the heart, and not because of physical torment.

_ Eloise smiled ruefully. “It’s a little late to wonder, don’t you think?” _

_ “It might be too late to do anything about it, but it’s never too late to wonder.” _

_ “I think I’ll be happy,” Eloise said.  _

_ “He seems a nice man.” _

_ “He’s a very nice man.” _

_ “Honorable.” _

_ “He is that.” _

_ Violet nodded. “I think you’ll be happy. It might take time until you realize it, and you might doubt yourself at first, but you’ll be happy. Just remember—” She stopped, chewing on her lip. _

_ “What, Mother?” _

_ “Just remember,” she said slowly as if she were choosing each word with great care, “that it takes time. That’s all.” _

Violet knew all of her children as if they were appendages of her body. Eloise was happy, but something was amiss. Violet suspected that the rushed circumstances of her marriage were to blame. Making sure she was in love and married the right person was something Eloise had always insisted on, and Violet knew that her daughter was likely to upset that she had to marry so quickly, without fully knowing if she was in love. 

She knew Eloise expected love to be a sudden thing, but it wasn’t. Violet’s job now was to reassure her daughter. She saw how Phillip and Eloise looked at each other. Perhaps it had been sooner than either of them expected, but they were in love, it might just take some time. 

She muttered something about having to usher the family out, as she tried to hide a tear that had begun to form. Another bird would be flying the nest, and no matter how often she’d done it, it would always be difficult for Violet to let go. 

_ “You’re very impatient,” Violet said, facing the door. “You always have been.” _

_ “I know,” Eloise said.  _

_ “I always loved that about you,” Violet said. “I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.” _

_ “You wanted everything for everyone, and you wanted to know it all and learn it all, and . . .” _

She paused for a moment and then turned around to face her daughter directly. 

_ “You’ve never been satisfied with second-best, and that’s good, Eloise. I’m glad you never married any of those men who proposed in London. None of them would have made you happy. Content, maybe, but not happy.” _

A look of surprise took over Eloise’s face. 

_ “But don’t let your impatience become all that you are,” Violet said softly. “Because it isn’t, you know. There’s a great deal more to you, but I think sometimes you forget that.” She smiled, the gentle, wise smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter. “Give it time, Eloise. Be gentle. Don’t push too hard.” _

Eloise was a pusher, and for once in her life, Violet needed her to know it was okay to not always push. 

_ “Be patient,” Violet said. “Don’t push.” _

A pause. 

_ “I imagine you and Sir Phillip will want some privacy,” Violet said, placing her hand on the doorknob. _

She heard Eloise mutter,  _ “I shall miss you all.” _

_ “Of course you will,” Violet said, her brisk tone obviously her way of recovering her composure. “And we shall miss you. But you won’t be far. And you’ll live so close to Benedict and Sophie. And Posy, too. I expect I shall be coming out this way more often for visits now that I have two more grandchildren to spoil.” _

And with that, she was out the door. It wasn’t until she was in the privacy of her own guest room that she let the tears fall. Tears of relief, tears of happiness, tears of sadness. They were tears of existence. She had complete faith that Eloise would figure it out, she always did. She couldn’t help but think of Edmund. Her thoughts had been so occupied with Eloise as of late, that her usual thoughts of her late husband had not been as present. But as they often did whenever something momentous happened to one of their children, Violet thought of him and whispered out into the empty room: 

“Oh how I wish you could be here to see what beautiful lives our children have made for themselves, Edmund.” 

~

Violet loved visiting the country, and she especially loved visiting Romney Hall. Not long after their marriage, Eloise and Phillip began to populate the halls with siblings for Amanda and Oliver. Having been by her side for 28 years, Violet was drawn to visit Eloise as often as she could, it was like a part of her was not well unless her blazing force of a daughter was by her side. And when she visited, she saw the looks of pure love between Eloise and Phillip, which combined with the sounds of laughter from her grandchildren roaming the vast country home, brought the greatest smile to Violet’s face. 

* * *

“And so even though I caused quite a distress, it all turned out for the best,” Eloise finished for her mother. 

Violet just smiled at her and swatted her lovingly as she said, “yes it did.”

Dinner had finished by this time, with most of Violet’s plate remaining untouched as she was too focused on storytelling to Eloise. They laughed at each other and grasped hands as Francesca made her way over. 

“Mother, you barely touched your plate! Are you alright?” Frannie asked with concern. 

“She is just a bit distracted is all,” Eloise said slyly, rising from her seat and giving her mother a knowing look. “I’m sure she will be in great desire of dessert whilst you entertain us on the pianoforte, sister.”

And with that, Eloise was off. Violet rose from her chair and grabbed Francesca’s hand. 

“Come, dearest, let’s make our way to the music hall, I do love to hear you play,” Violet said. 

Francesca smiled at Violet and began to move with her. 

“What is this I hear of you being rather nostalgic and distracted this evening?”

“Ah, so you’ve talked to your older siblings I see,” Violet said with a smirk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought :)


	7. The Piece She Failed About Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francesca and Michael through Violet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite things I've ever written. I think Francesca is so complex and writing about grief and the relationship between Violet and Frannie was difficult, but I'm proud of how this turned out. Italicized conversations are JQ's writing. Enjoy!

Violet and Francesca moved about Aubrey Hall to the music room, where it was expected Francesca would entertain the family for a post-dinner performance. While many of the Bridgertons were trained in music throughout their lives, Francesca emerged as the finest musician of the family. 

“Oh, darling, you know how happy this season makes me,” Violet said to her daughter as they walked. 

“It makes me so happy as well, mother,” Francesca smiled down at her mother. 

“It is one of the only times a year I get to be with my entire family,” Violet said softly, “I particularly enjoy your presence, my dear, as you have always been quite independent and Scotland seems to grow farther and farther away.”

“I know,” Francesca replied, “But I am here now.”

Violet simply smiled at her daughter and thought back to her tenacious daughter’s life…

* * *

_The 1818 Season_

With three of her children married and a faction of wholly adorable grandchildren, Violet Bridgerton, the dowager viscountess, was supremely happy with her life. Her family brought her immense joy and it pleased her to see them so happy. 

The 1818 season was to commence and while her hopes to find Eloise or Colin matched in the upcoming season were improbable to happen, Francesca alerted her mother early in the spring that she wished to find an admirable match. Her third daughter had always known what she wanted and was not afraid to ask for it, after all, being the sixth born child out of eight, one must have a strong will. 

Thus, Violet was determined to find her daughter a husband most deserving of her. There were plenty of viscounts and barons in search of wives, but Violet knew titles and honor did not matter to her daughter. Francesca made clear her desire to become a mother, and given the Bridgerton family wealth and Anthony’s earnest promise that all of his siblings would be taken care of, she did not require the highest bred of men. 

But that didn’t mean Francesca would not welcome them. They were in attendance at Lady Danbury’s ball shortly into the season when Violet noticed her daughter smitten with a dashing young man. Francesca was about the dance floor with the man, looking at him as if he were the most majestic being of existence. 

“Mother, whatever are you staring at?” Anthony, Violet’s eldest child and head of the family asked as he made his way over to her. His wife Kate was close behind. They reached her and Anthony lovingly wrapped his arm around his wife, which made Violet blushingly smile at them. It pleased her so for her children to be so in love and engaging in public displays of affection. 

“Your sister,” she finally told him after he looked at her inquisitively. She nodded to the dance floor where Francesca was dancing with the young man. 

“Ah, I see our dear Frannie has met the Earl,” Anthony nodded. “Kilmartin arrived from Scotland for the season.”

“The Earl of Kilmartin,” Violet said, remembering the Scottish earl. “He has not made a season appearance since the death of his father, correct?” 

“Yes, and when it was rumored he was to be present this season,” Kate began, “Many of the young ladies claimed their interest in him.”

“Well, it certainly seems like he’s taken a particular liking to my sister,” Anthony said with a stiff jaw, taking a rather large sip of his drink. Violet loved how her son loved his siblings and knew that after his role in Daphne and Simon’s relationship, the thought of marrying off another of his sisters was both exciting and stressful. 

“Anthony, I am sure if he intends to court Francesca he will make it clear to you,” Kate told him. 

As they were talking, Violet took notice of the music abating and that Francesca and her dance partner were making their way over to her, Kate, and Anthony. 

“Mother, Kate, Anthony,” Francesca smiled at them as she reached them, “I’d like to introduce you to John Stirling, the Earl of Kilmartin.”

Violet took in the man, who was rather tall with dark features. When he spoke, his raspy Scottish accent was apparent. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Anthony extended his hand first, firmly gripping the Earl’s hand. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, before turning to her and bringing her hand up to his lips for a chaste kiss. “And you must be Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton spoke highly of her mother.”

A charming devil this one was. It was no surprise to Violet when a short time later, Anthony informed her that the Earl had asked for Francesca’s hand in marriage. They were both pleased that at least one Bridgerton would have a proper courtship, and the wedding was set for two months hence. Violet took great pleasure in preparing for her daughter’s wedding. John, as she had come to call the Earl, was a fine young man and Francesca seemed taken with him. Violet intuited that her daughter was not wholly proper with John, as Francesca did not seem at all worried for her wedding night. She hinted to her mother that she had let John kiss her and that she was rather aware of what was to come on her wedding night. 

As a proper lady of society, Violet should have been concerned that her daughter had this knowledge, but frankly, given that Francesca seemed in love and would be completely taken care of by John, she honestly didn’t mind. 

Days before their wedding, Anthony threw the bride and groom a wedding celebration dinner, and Violet was filled with joy. The event was for close family, so in addition to her children and their families, Violet spent the evening with the Stirlings. John’s mother Janet was delightful as was his aunt Helen. The three women were all widows and it was a bonding connection. 

But there was another person present who Violet was simply taken with. Michael Stirling, the Earl’s cousin, and Helen’s son was perhaps even more charming and delightful than John. Though she was a mother and widow, she was not blind to the attractive looks of young men, and if she were 20 or 30 years younger, and if her heart did not forever belong to Edmund, Violet would most definitely pursue the dashing Scotsman. As this was not the case, she thought perhaps she could convince Eloise to pursue him. 

“Lady Bridgerton, my cousin spoke highly of you in his letter to me informing me of his engagement,” Michael said when he first greeted her. He was as debonair a man as Violet had ever met. 

“I am glad to hear it,” she smiled at him. “I hear you are quite the venerated soldier?” John had spoken of his cousin’s time in the Napoleonic wars. 

“So they say,” Michael smiled, “Though I much prefer the company of beautiful women like yourself than that of my comrades. I see now clearly where Francesca gets her beauty from.”

Violet felt the blush rise in her face from the compliment, but more than that, she saw the way Michael looked over to her daughter. There was the tiniest hint of sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. If she didn’t know any better, Violet would have asked him what he thought of Francesca, for she was to become his cousin in a sense. But Violet did know better. So she did not say anything, and 36 hours later, Francesca and John were wed, and as far as Violet saw it, John _and_ Michael were the two newest members of the family. Anthony walked her down the aisle and though she tried her hardest, Violet couldn’t keep the tears in her eyes from falling. 

Then before she knew it, Francesca, the new Countess of Kilmartin, was off with her husband. They of course spent time in England, but Scotland was their true home. It pained Violet to be so far from her daughter, but Francesca had always been independent and Violet knew she would thrive in her role as a countess. Besides, Violet was informed by the Kilmartins that she and her children were welcome in Scotland anytime. 

It was a joy to see another one of her children so happy, that when she received that fateful summons two years after Francesca’s marriage, it felt like the worst day of her life all over again. 

She’d been taking some warm milk in the drawing-room when a commotion at the front door startled her. None of her children were expected and it was far too late for any visitors. She went to see what was about and saw a messenger speaking to the butler. When the young messenger boy saw her, he urgently beckoned for her. 

“For you madam, from Mr. Michael Stirling,” he said as he shoved the note toward her. 

Violet couldn’t so much as utter a thank you before she tore the note open. Michael was a grand friend to Francesca and John, but it was not usual for him to send Violet a message. 

When she opened the letter and read the single sentence, Violet called immediately for a carriage, for the letter dreadfully read:

  
_Lady Bridgerton,_

_It is John-he has passed. Francesca needs you._

_Michael Stirling_

As she clambered into the carriage and felt it rush off, she was struck with the feeling of her heart exploding from her chest, a feeling she’d only had once before, when Edmund died. The pain of losing her husband had been unbearable, but the thought that her daughter was now going to feel that way? It was insurmountable. She wanted nothing more than to hold her daughter, but when she arrived at the Kilmartins London residence, it took everything in her not to burst into tears on the spot. 

She heard the screaming and sobbing as soon as the front door opened and was quickly ushered upstairs. What she saw was her worst nightmare as a mother. Her daughter was shaking and crying uncontrollably, her face red and chest heaving from heavy breathing. Michael was standing nearby, trying to console her, but to no avail. Violet reeled herself in, wanting nothing more than to join her daughter in tears, but knew now was not the time. She placed a hand to her heart, thought of her dear Edmund, took a deep breath, then tore into the room. 

“Francesca?” she said softly, wanting to alert her daughter to her presence. Francesca looked up at her and did not say or do anything for a couple of seconds. Then: she rushed into Violet’s outstretched arms.

“Mama, I...I...don’t...know what..to do,” she cried into her mother. Violet hadn’t either, not when Edmund died. She’d felt like her world had been ripped away from her feet, but she couldn’t tell Francesca that now. Her daughter needed to sleep, the time for grief would come later. 

“Michael, help me lift her into bed,” Violet pleaded to Michael, who was as pale as a phantom. He obliged and helped her get her thrashing daughter into the bed. She trapped Francesca under the covers and threw one arm over her waist. With her other hand, Violet softly brushed at Francesca’s cheek and sang her a lullaby, something she’d done when Francesca was a child and suffered nightmares. Slowly, her daughter’s breathing slowed. Michael informed her she was absolutely welcome to stay the evening, which of course she did. Violet wanted to be there first thing when Francesca woke up, for she knew the only thing worse than the day your spouse dies, is the day after they die. 

One of the servants brought her to a room that had quickly been prepared for her. When the door was closed behind her, and she was alone, her daughter safe asleep, she wept. She wept for her daughter, who at only two and twenty was now a widow, she wept for the child she suspected Francesca was carrying, who would now grow up without their father, and she wept for her husband, deceased 17 years. The sobs came from her core and it felt as though the air was taken right out of her lungs. 

When she finally calmed, she whispered into the dark room, as she often did when she most missed her husband, “Oh, Edmund, how I wish you were here. Francesca needs you. I need you.” Slumber soon took her. 

This would be the greatest challenge she ever faced as a mother, helping her child navigate through their grief. But she would do it because above all else, she loved her children and their happiness was the most important thing. Francesca was resistant though. She did not speak about her pain outright. Violet visited Kilmartin House every day, knowing but not knowing exactly what her daughter was going through at the time. 

Then Francesca lost the baby. When she’d lost Edmund, Violet had her children to remind her of him, and to take care of. She was comforted that Francesca would have her own child. But when Janet informed her of what happened, for the first time in her life, Violet questioned God how Francesca could be put through two terrible losses so close together. Then Michael left. Apparently, he was off to India. Violet knew he was grieving too, but she was angry at him for being one more loss for Francesca, who’d found in him a great friend. 

She ached for Francesca to return home with her, where she could take care of her and help her through. But Francesca, strong as she was, resisted. With Michael, the new Earl of Kilmartin, away, she wanted to ensure the duties of Kilmartin were carried on, choosing to remain in Kilmartin lodgings. So for four years, Violet had to endure watching her shell of a daughter push through the pain. Francesca was never the same after John’s death, but she handled it with the most grace Violet had ever seen from a widow. 

Francesca was a terrific aunt and it pleased Violet so to see her daughter interact with her nieces and nephews. But she also saw how pained Francesca was when they’d run back to their parents. Violet had not lost a child, she was fortunate that way, but she could imagine how painful it was for Francesca. Violet always wanted to talk to Francesca about her grief, but Francesca, as her most independent child, never seemed open to it. So she didn’t, she just made sure to say extra prayers for her beloved sixth child and spent as much time with her as possible when she was in England or visited her in Scotland. It was not the existence she wanted for her child, but it was true. Francesca’s smile grew back over those four years, and Violet knew her daughter was happy. Well, if not happy, content. So Violet simply loved her. 

Then he returned. Violet awoke one morning shortly before the 1824 season was to officially commence to Francesca in the drawing-room. 

“Darling, what are you doing here? Why are you not at Kilmartin House?” Francesca had written to her that she was coming to London early this year, but as it was what she’d done the past four years, Violet knew she would reside at Kilmartin House. 

“Mother,” Francesca rose to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, “Michael has returned.” 

“Oh,” Violet said, understanding at once. Francesca must have returned to Number 5 because Michael was in residence at Kilmartin House. She knew her daughter wouldn’t think it proper to stay in the same house with him, alone. Violet had many questions about Michael but could sense that her daughter did not wish to discuss it thoroughly, so she went with a simple “how is he?”

“Fine,” Francesca swiftly responded, “He will likely be calling here today.” 

Violet smiled slightly and then after a few more pleasantries, the two parted, off to begin their days. It was not long after that Michael arrived. After four years, Violet had almost forgotten what he looked like, but the tanned version of Michael that appeared in her drawing-room was all the handsome he’d been four years prior. 

_“Michael!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet with obvious affection. “How good to see you!”_

_“Lady Bridgerton,” he said, taking her hand and gracing it with a gallant kiss._

_“No one does that like you,” she said approvingly._ It had been four years, and she had been angry at him for a time for abandoning her daughter, but she could not deny he was as charming as ever. 

_“One has to cultivate one’s best maneuvers,” he murmured._

_“And I can’t tell you how much we ladies of a certain age appreciate your doing so.”_

_“A certain age being…” He smiled devilishly. “… one and thirty?”_

At that, all was forgiven. His charms were too much for her and she could not possibly stay upset at him, and she felt her smile radiate when she said _“You are always welcome in this house, Michael Stirling.”_ She motioned for him to sit down, wanting to talk with him more. As he sat, she realized he was no longer just Michael Stirling, he was now Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin, and would likely wish to be addressed as such. 

_“Oh, dear,” she said with a slight frown. “I must apologize. I suppose I should be calling you Kilmartin now.”_

_“‘Michael’ is just fine,” he assured her._

_“I know that it’s been four years,” she continued, “but as I haven’t seen you…”_

_“You may call me anything you wish,” he said smoothly._ She knew he meant it. Though he was not technically her family, Violet had always treated him as such and this moment cemented that fact. 

_“If you are going to be so accommodating,” she said, “then I must be as well. Please do call me Violet. It’s well past time that you did.”_

_“Oh, I couldn’t,” he said quickly._

_“I insist, Michael,” she said, “and I’m certain you’re already aware that I usually get my way.”_

_“I don’t know if I can kiss the hand of a Violet. It seems rather scandalously intimate, don’t you think?”_

_“Don’t you dare stop.”_ Oh that boyish charisma, it would be the death of her. 

_“Tongues will wag,” he warned her._

_“I believe my reputation can withstand it.”_

_“Ah, but can mine?”_

_She laughed. “You are a rascal.”_

_He leaned back in his chair. “It serves me well.”_

_“Would you care for tea?” She motioned to the delicate china pot on the desk across the room. “Mine has gone cold, but I would be happy to ring for more.”_

_“I’d love some,” he admitted._

_“I suppose you’re spoiled for it now, after so many years in India,” she said, standing and crossing the room to ring the bell pull._

_“It’s just not the same,” he said, quickly rising to his feet as well. “I can’t explain it, but nothing tastes quite like tea in England.”_

_“The quality of the water, do you think?”_

_He smiled stealthily. “The quality of the woman pouring.”_

_She laughed. “You, my lord, need a wife. Immediately.”_

_“Oh, really? And why is that?”_

_“Because in your present state, you are clearly a danger to unmarried women everywhere.”_ And this, she knew, was true. When word spread that the Earl was back in England, women would surely be flocking to his side, hoping to become his wife. She eagerly awaited his response, but he only smirked. 

_“I hope you are including yourself in those ranks, Violet.”_

_And then a voice from the door: “Are you flirting with my mother?”_

Francesca arrived at the drawing-room before Violet could respond to Michael’s innocent flirtations, though she was rather grateful for it, for in all her years she would not have known what to say. 

_“I have traveled the world over, Francesca, and can say without qualification that there are few women with whom I’d rather flirt than your mother.”_

_“I am inviting you to supper right now,” Violet announced, “and I will not accept no for an answer.”_

_Michael chuckled. “I’d be honored.”_

_Across from him, Francesca murmured, “You are incorrigible.”_

It pleased her to see Francesca and Michael together again, they had been the dearest of friends and she knew how pained Francesca had been when he’d left. If inviting him to dinner could bring a smile to her daughter’s face, then she would do it. Their playful friendship was so cherished. 

_“What are your plans now that you are returned?” Violet asked._

_Michael turned to her with what he knew had to be a blank expression. “I’m not certain, actually,” he said “I imagine it will take me some time to understand just what exactly is expected of me in my new role.”_

_“I’m sure Francesca can be of help in that quarter,” Violet said._

_“Only if she wishes it,” Michael said quietly._

_“Of course,” Francesca said, moving slightly to the side when a maid came in with a tea tray. “I will assist you in any way you need.”_

_“That was rather quick,” Michael murmured._

_“I’m mad for tea,” Violet explained. “Drink it all day long. The maids keep water near boiling on the stove at all times now.”_

_“Will you have some?” Francesca asked since she had taken charge of pouring._

_“Yes, thank you,” Michael replied._

_“No one knows Kilmartin as Francesca does,” Violet said, with all the pride of a mother hen. “She will prove invaluable to you.”_

_“I am quite sure that you are correct,” Michael said, accepting a cup from Francesca._

_“She has been the countess for six years, and for four of them, she has had to be the earl as well.”_ Violet saw Francesca startle at his admission, but she knew it was true. Despite all her daughter had been through, she played her role exceptionally well. 

_“In every way but in name. Oh, come now, Francesca, you must realize that it is true.”_

_“And,” he added, “that it is a compliment. I owe you a greater debt than I could ever repay. I could not have stayed away so long had I not known that the earldom was in such capable hands.”_

At that, Francesca blushed, and Violet wondered if it was the compliment or the man giving the compliment that made her daughter turn pink. Others had told her this before, but no one had elicited a reaction like that besides Michael. 

_“Thank you,” she mumbled. “It was no difficulty, I assure you.”_

_“Perhaps, but it is appreciated all the same.”_

Sensing the serious turn of tension in the air, Violet pivoted the conversation to a new topic, not wishing to cause any pain to her daughter or Michael. 

“So, Michael,” Violet turned to him excitedly, “Tell me all about India.” 

As he recounted his time in India, Francesca smiled at him with fondness and love. Violet would not begin to imagine she knew her daughter’s exact feelings, but she perceived that having her late husband’s closest friend back with her was comforting. The conversation cut from Michael’s adventures in India to the social state of London, and as subtly as she could, Violet suggested the pair head for a walk in Hyde Park, to catch up on their own. 

When Francesca arrived back home sometime later, Violet didn’t even have time to ask how the stroll was before her daughter blurted out “I must visit the modiste immediately!”

“Why, my darling?”

And then Francesca rattled out her true purpose in coming to London this season: she wished to remarry. It brought Violet joy to know her daughter was ready to remarry. Francesca didn’t reveal her motivations behind her decision, but Violet insisted they would go that afternoon. She was prepared to help Francesca navigate this season however she could. And it was unlike Francesca to seek out her help so directly, fiercely independent as she was. So Violet would relish this moment with her daughter. The carriage ride to the modiste was silent at first, but then Francesca spoke suddenly. 

_“Mother?”_

_Violet turned to her with a smile. “Yes, dear?”_

_“Why did you never remarry?”_

Violet parted her lips, shocked by the question. She was not offended, just merely surprised, because she realized that was the first time any of her children had asked her that question. 

_“Do you know,” Violet said softly, “this is the first time any of you has asked me that?”_

_“That can’t be true,” Francesca said. “Are you certain?”_

_Violet nodded. “None of my children has asked me. I would have remembered.”_

She saw Francesca’s brow furrow, knowing her daughter was questioning why she nor any of her siblings had never asked that question. It didn’t hurt her that they hadn’t. Frankly, she never expected them to. Edmund was their father and, especially for her oldest children, it likely would have hurt them if she had remarried. She supposed it was the unfortunate connection she shared with Francesca alone that drew her daughter to ask. Violet knew Francesca probably felt many different emotions about remarrying, so Violet was careful with her words. 

_“When your father died…” Violet said. “Well, I don’t know how much you recall, but it was very sudden. None of us expected it.”_

_“A bee sting,” Violet continued, “Who would have thought it possible?” Violet said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how well you remember him, but your father was a very large man. As tall as Benedict and perhaps even broader in the shoulders. You just wouldn’t think that a bee…” She stopped, pulling out a crisp, white handkerchief and holding it to her lips as she cleared her throat. “Well, it was unexpected. I don’t really know what else to say, except…” She turned to her daughter with achingly wise eyes. “Except I imagine you understand better than anyone.”_

Francesca only nodded, and Violet could see the tears in her eyes. 

_“Anyway,” Violet said briskly, “after his death, I was just so stunned. I felt as if I were walking in a haze. I’m not at all certain how I functioned that first year. Or even the ones directly thereafter. So I couldn’t possibly even think of marriage.”_

_“I know,” Francesca said softly._

_“And after that… well, I don’t know what happened. Maybe I just didn’t meet anyone with whom I cared to share my life. Maybe I loved your father too much.” She shrugged. “Maybe I just never saw the need. I was in a very different position from you, after all. I was older, don’t forget, and already the mother of eight children. And your father left our affairs in very good order. I knew we would never want for anything.”_

_“John left Kilmartin in excellent order,” Francesca said quickly._

_“Of course he did,” Violet said, patting her hand. “Forgive me. I did not mean to imply otherwise. But you don’t have eight children, Francesca. And you’ve quite a lot of time ahead of you to spend it all alone.”_

She knew Francesca was worried she was doing the wrong thing. She herself hadn’t remarried, so why would her daughter expect to without feeling any guilt? It was then Violet realized how different their situations were. 

_Francesca nodded jerkily. “I know,” she said. “I know. I know, but I can’t quite… I can’t…”_

_“You can’t what?” Violet asked gently._

_“I can’t…” Francesca looked down. “I can’t rid myself of the feeling that I’m doing something wrong, that I’m dishonoring John, dishonoring our marriage.”_

_“John would have wanted you to be happy.”_ And Violet knew he would have, just as Edmund would have wanted her to be happy. 

_“I know. I know. Of course he would. But don’t you see—”_ Francesca looked up at her, as if she was searching for approval or love, two things Violet hoped her daughter knew she would always have.

_“I’m not even looking for that,” she added. “I’m not going to find someone like John. I’ve accepted that. And it feels so wrong to marry with less.”_

_“You won’t find someone like John, that is true,” Violet said. “But you might find a man who will suit you equally well, just in a different way.”_

_“You didn’t.”_

_“No, I didn’t,” she agreed, “but I didn’t look very hard. I didn’t look at all.”_

_“Do you wish you had?”_

Of course Violet had been lonely. Anthony was of age when Edmund died, so he immediately took over the family roles. But Violet had her younger children to raise. Finding a new husband was never something that crossed her mind, and she didn’t know how to explain to her daughter that just because she hadn’t found a new love, that didn’t mean Francesca couldn’t. 

_Violet opened her mouth, but not a sound came out, not even breath. Finally she said, “I don’t know, Francesca. I honestly don’t know.” And then, because the moment almost certainly needed a bit of laughter, she added, “I certainly didn’t want any more children!”_

_Francesca couldn’t help but smile. “I do,” she said softly. “I want a baby.”_

_“I thought that you did.”_

_“Why did you never ask me about it?”_

_Violet tilted her head to the side. “Why did you never ask me about why I never remarried?”_

Violet knew her children like the back of her hand, and Francesca’s pursued lips indicated this. A mother’s intuition was rarely wrong, and for a while, Violet could sense that Francesca wanted a child. Hell, Violet completely understood. She was not sure where she would be today if she did not have her children to ease the pain of her loss. 

_“If you had been Eloise, I think I would have said something,” Violet added. “Or any of your sisters, for that matter. But you—” She smiled nostalgically. “You’re not the same. You never have been.”_

Violet loved that fact about Francesca so much. She loved that her daughter knew who she was and was unashamed about it. 

_“Even as a child you set yourself apart. And you needed your distance.”_

_Francesca reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I love you, did you know that?”_

_Violet smiled. “I rather suspected it.”_

_“Mother!”_

_“Very well, of course I knew it. How could you not love me when I love you so very, very much?”_

_“I haven’t said it,” Francesca said, feeling rather horrified by her omission. “Not recently, anyway.”_

_“It’s quite alright.” Violet squeezed her hand back. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”_

_“Mother?” Francesca blurted out. “May I ask you one more question?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“If I don’t find someone—not like John, of course, but still not equally suited to me. If I don’t find someone like that, and I marry someone whom I rather like, but perhaps don’t love… is that all right?”_

She knew Francesca wanted permission to seek out marriage for selfish reasons, like only wanting a baby. 

_Violet was silent for several moments before she answered. “I’m afraid only you will know the answer to that,” she finally said. “I would never say no, of course. Half the ton—more than half, in truth—has marriages like that, and quite a few of them are perfectly content. But you will have to make your judgments for yourself when they arise. Everyone is different, Francesca. I suspect you know that better than most. And when a man asks for your hand, you will have to judge him on his merits and not by some arbitrary standard you have set out ahead of time.”_

Violet hoped that her daughter would find someone who not only loved her the way she deserved but someone who could show Francesca it was okay to love again. Someone like Michael, who made her daughter smile and brought her peace. He was supposed to join them for supper that evening, but he didn’t show up. Violet was concerned, for Michael was not one to neglect a promise. After some time, Francesca insisted on going to Kilmartin House to see what was the matter. Violet received a note from her that evening that only said he was sick and she was going to stay to take care of him. Violet wrote back that she would visit in the morning. 

She never did have the chance to visit, however, because Francesca arrived home that morning alerting her mother that everything was okay. Still, when Francesca spent nearly all day every day, attending to Michael’s mysterious illness, Violet was sick with fear. Her daughter had already lost one of the Stirling cousins, she was not sure how she would manage to lose another. 

One week later, Violet decided for herself that she needed to see Michael, needed to know what was going on and why her daughter was being so mysterious. Violet was not naive to how it would appear if anyone knew Francesca, an unmarried widow, was spending so much time alone with an unmarried man. She wondered if perhaps Michael was not ill, but that he and Francesca were instead engaging in an affair. 

That did not disturb Violet, Michael, and Francesca being together. It made quite a lot of sense when she thought about it actually, two souls bound by their love and grief for another. What bothered her was the secrecy. So, one morning, she insisted she would visit Michael herself to deduce what was going on. She told Francesca this and alluded to her suspicions of an affair. 

The arrival of her third son Colin, who’d been visiting the Mediterranean, stopped her from visiting the Earl. So instead, she resigned that Michael would make his reappearance into London society at her upcoming birthday celebration. Oh how the 1824 Season was shaping up…

~

“You’re going back to Scotland?” Violet asked her daughter, who had just informed her mother she would be returning. “Whatever for?”

“There is an emergency, and I am the best person to handle it,” Francesca told her, but Violet knew she was lying. Violet had the insight to see how Michael and Francesca had been around each other the last few weeks. She knew what love was, and she knew her daughter was in it with Michael and him her, but both of them were too scared to realize it. 

When Francesca arrived back that morning from Kilmartin House, Violet knew something had happened. It was the way Francesca kept touching her lips. Violet would not push her, because this was something Francesca needed to realize on her own. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer some sage motherly advice. 

“Darling, you have always been so strong,” she began. “Whenever you were faced with a problem, like one of your siblings taking one of your toys, you always marched head first to solve the problem. Matters of the heart can be resolved that way as well. It is okay to feel and it is okay to feel things for someone you did not expect. You cannot live in the shadows of a ghost for the rest of your life, not when that ghost would have given everything to ensure you were happy. I love you very much and that will not change. If you need to run away to Scotland for this _emergency_ , then that is what you must do. But know that your heart is big enough to solve more than one emergency.”

She kissed her daughter on the head and let it be. In all of her years, Violet knew that sometimes the best thing she could do for her children was give them the freedom to make mistakes. Running away from Michael was a mistake, but it was one Francesca needed to make. Violet had made plenty of mistakes herself working through her grief, but she got through them, Francesca would too. The note she received from Francesca upon her arrival in Scotland showed this. Violet’s response was a quick message of love, confidence, and understanding:

_“I am sure you have everything well in hand. You always do.”_

When Colin informed her several days later that Michael needed to return to Scotland all of a sudden, Violet felt a tiny surge in her heart, as if a piece of it that had been broken was beginning to mend. The rush of Colin’s marriage to Penelope and Eloise’s sudden disappearance and marriage distracted Violet from thoughts of Francesca. She knew her daughter would want to know of her siblings' marriages, so she penned a letter explaining the circumstances. When she received Francesca’s response, Violet let out a sob she had not known she felt. 

“Mother, 

Thank you for the news of my brother and sister and their nuptials. I am sad to have missed the weddings but understand the haste of the circumstances, and look forward to greeting my new brother and sister-in-law when I have the chance. 

I’ve some news of my own for you, though I do not think you will be shocked. Michael and I have married. I cannot fully explain what led to our marriage, but what I do know is that you were right. There is room in my heart to love another. Michael loves me so, and I love him. I am so happy, mother. I’m only sorry we wed without any family present, it just simply felt the right thing to do and we could not wait. I am eager to see you again. 

With all my love, 

Francesca”

The sob was not one of sadness, but of great relief for her daughter, who had so long suffered in grief and despair. There was nothing Violet wanted more than for her children to be happy. And now, long last, Francesca was again. 

~

Five years into their marriage, Michael and Francesca still had no children, and it broke Violet’s heart because she knew Francesca wanted a child more than anything. She did not talk about it, but with every new pregnancy in the family, Violet knew Francesca wondered why she did not have her own child. It wasn’t until that day at Aubrey Hall where Francesca, over 30 years old and fully grown, wept in Violet’s arms that she acknowledged the pain. Francesca may never have a child, and Violet would need to be strong for her daughter. 

But then one year later, after not seeing her daughter at all in that time, Francesca arrived and handed her a bundle, in it a baby. Violet would never prefer one grandchild over any other, but holding baby John, who Francesca waited for for years, put him in the top spot for some time. And then when his sister arrived a year later, Violet was full, because Francesca was full. 

* * *

Francesca and Violet arrived at the music room, where a plethora of Bridgerton relations was gathered. 

“I love you, mother,” Francesca gave her mother a knowing look, their bond unbreakable. She took her place at the piano as Violet sat down on one of the sofas. 

She thought perhaps she would have a moment or two to herself, but then her beloved youngest child, Hyacinth, now a mature mother herself, sat down next to her. 

“Well mother, you look like you have had quite an evening,” she said. 

“Oh, Hyacinth, I have had the best evening…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! I've been writing a lot lately and my birthday is tomorrow (22!), so I'm going to take a break for a week or so, but I'll be back with updates for this story and my other fic, as well as some one-shots I have planned. Thanks!


	8. The Piece She Failed About What It Means to Be Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyacinth and Gareth from Violet's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Violet in this book, enjoy! Italics are JQ's writing.

“What exactly have you been up to tonight, mother?” Hyacinth asked Violet. Her youngest child hated being left out of anything and Violet suspected that Hyacinth wanted to know if something was going on she was not aware of. 

“I have been up to nothing, my dear,” Violet told her reassuringly. “I’ve just found myself rather sentimental tonight, that is all.”

Hyacinth looked at her pointedly, as if she did not fully believe her, but then said “Anthony did mention you have been acting quite saccharine tonight.”

“Oh, Hyacinth, you really must always be in the know of everything, don’t you?” 

“It is my right as the youngest of eight children to be privy to all that goes on in this family,” Hyacinth smiled at her. 

“Very well, I have spent much of this evening thinking back on your brothers and sisters’ odysseys to marriage,” Violet feigned indifference to Hyacinth, but quickly gave in to her daughter’s pleading eyes. She knew Hyacinth loved to reminiscence as much as she did, so she simply said, “If only dear Gareth had known what exactly he was getting into…”

* * *

“Mother I do not wish to attend!” Hyacinth Bridgerton quite nearly shouted at her mother. 

With Gregory away on his own and the rest of her children married with families of their own, Hyacinth was the only child of Violet Bridgerton who still lived with her. She was glad to have Hyacinth still in her care and she knew it was only a matter of time before she too married and Violet was left alone in her big, lonely house. Still, there were some days where Violet could not resist joking that she should have stopped after seven children, as Hyacinth was particularly spirited. 

“Hyacinth, we’ve already responded yes to your attendance and it would be rude to back out,” Violet stared at her daughter, who had just so impertinently informed her that she did not wish to attend the annual Smythe-Smith musicale. “Besides, Penelope has so graciously offered to attend with you, and I know you would not wish to disappoint your sister-in-law.” 

Hyacinth huffed in indignation.

“But if I am to go, why aren’t you?” Hyacinth looked at Violet with sharp eyes, knowing she was toeing the line. 

Violet set down the paper she’d been reading and turned to look at Hyacinth sternly. Though fully grown, Violet expected Hyacinth to listen to her still. And she certainly did not appreciate Hyacinth talking back to her, even if it was completely expected at this point. 

“I am not to go because I did not respond that I would be attending,” Violet said categorically. “Had I responded I was to go, I would be going. Besides, I have a bit of a cough.” 

She didn’t. 

“Instead, you will be there to represent the both of us. That is final.”

Hyacinth looked as if she was about to retort once more, but a steely look from Violet closed her mouth as soon as it had opened. 

This was Hyacinth’s fourth year on the marriage mart, and while Violet would never force her children to marry if they did not want to, she was eager that this season would finally find Hyacinth wed. She’d received three proposals her first season, two the following, and one the season after. This year, however, there were no proposals. It was not too great a concern for Violet, for all of her daughters-hell, all of her sons as well- had been quite fastidious in finding spouses. She knew when the right one came along, Hyacinth would marry. 

Still, there was a small part of her that hoped it would be soon if only so her vivacious daughter’s tenacity would cause someone else plight instead of herself. Hyacinth was touchy to the subject, so it naturally was one of Violet’s favorite topics of conversation. Hyacinth deserved a taste of her own medicine after all. 

“I’m sure the Smythe-Smith girls will be wonderful, and you never know who you might meet…” Violet said, picking up her paper once more to flip through it nonchalantly. 

“Who I might meet?” Hyacinth deadpanned. 

“Yes. There will be plenty of eligible young gentlemen present, I’m sure,” Violet said, “Perhaps one of them will catch your eye.”

“If they haven’t caught it yet I’m not sure they ever will.”

Violet simply ‘hhmmphed’ in response. 

“Besides, if I was to marry, who would be around to annoy you for the rest of your life….someone’s got to do it,” Hyacinth said as she grabbed a grape off the table and darted out of the room before Violet could respond. 

All she could do was laugh and shake her head, simultaneously miffed and enamored by her daughter. Taking in the silence of the room and her solitude, her mind wandered to Edmund. 

Violet spoke so softly even if there was someone in the room, they wouldn’t hear her. 

“Hyacinth is so like you, my love,” Violet felt the tears pricking her eyes. “I do not dare think about what kind of mischief the two of you would have pulled off if you and she had gotten to know each other.” 

~

It was not until the next afternoon that Violet saw Hyacinth again. Her youngest child had taken to visiting Lady Danbury every Tuesday to read to her. Violet didn’t completely understand it, but Lady Danbury was one of her most favorite persons, so she was glad Hyacinth was around her influence. 

When Hyacinth arrived home from Lady Danbury’s, Violet was quick to deliver a slew of questions and comments to her daughter, namely about Charlotte Stokehurst’s engagement to the Earl of Renton. Charlotte’s mother had informed Violet that morning, and it was another reminder that Hyacinth was not engaged. 

_ “Mother, you have six married children, and they all are quite happy with their choices. Why must you try to push me into an unsuitable alliance?” _

_ Violet sat and prepared a cup of tea for Hyacinth. “I’m not,” she said, “but Hyacinth, couldn’t you even look?” _

_ “Mother, I—” _

_ “Or for my sake, pretend to?” _

_ Violet held the cup out, then took it back and added another spoonful of sugar. Hyacinth was the only one in the family who took sugar in her tea, and she’d always liked it extra sweet. _

_ “Thank you,” Hyacinth said, tasting the brew.  _

_ “Hyacinth,”  _ Violet said, slipping into a tone of voice she only used when she needed her children to know how serious she was, _ “you know I only wish to see you happy.” _

And this was true. Though other mothers wished to see their children married for glory or gain, Violet only ever cared about her children’s happiness. No amount of money or social praise could replace the feeling of unadulterated love and tenderness, and that was all she wanted for her eight fragments of life. 

_ “I know,” Hyacinth said.  _

_ “I would never wish to see you married to someone whose company you did not enjoy,” Violet continued. _

_ “I know.” _

_ “And if you never met the right person, I would be perfectly happy to see you remain unwed.” _

_ Hyacinth eyed her dubiously. _

_ “Very well,” Violet amended, “not perfectly happy, but you know I would never pressure you to marry someone unsuitable.” _

She would not be perfectly happy, because she could only give Hyacinth the love of a mother, and her daughter deserved not only a mother’s love but romantic love as well. 

_ “I know,” Hyacinth said again. _

_ “But darling, you’ll never find anyone if you don’t look.” _

_ “I look!” Hyacinth protested. “I have gone out almost every night this week. I even went to the Smythe-Smith musicale last night. Which,” she said quite pointedly, “I might add you did not attend.” _

_ Violet coughed. “Bit of a cough, I’m afraid.” _

The two women replayed bits of the last night’s conversation, which gave Violet the perfect opening to her next desired topic. At that morning’s tea with ladies of the ton, Violet was informed that her daughter had the pleasure of sitting next to one Gareth St. Clair, Lady Danbury’s grandson. Violet knew of his reputation, but Christ! All of her sons had that same reputation as did her daughters’ husbands. A reformed rake makes the best husband after all. 

_ “I heard you sat next to Gareth St. Clair,” Violet said, after an appropriate silence. _

_ “Do you have spies everywhere?” Hyacinth grumbled. _

_ “Almost,” Violet replied. “It makes life so much easier.” _

_ “For you, perhaps.” _

_ “Did you like him?” Violet persisted. _

Hyacinth’s brow furrowed and Violet could see the thoughts racing through her daughter’s mind. 

_ “Well?” her mother asked. _

_ “Somewhat,” Hyacinth hedged. _

Violet silenced herself but gleamed at Hyacinth with a look she knew would dismay her. 

_ “Don’t,” Hyacinth warned. _

_ “He would be an excellent match, Hyacinth!” _

Despite his reputation, she knew Gareth St. Clair was a loving grandson to Lady Danbury, had never gotten into any major trouble, was quite quick-witted, and was honorable when it counted. And, though she would never admit it out loud, of course, he was quite charming and attractive, as well. He would be an excellent match for Hyacinth. 

_ Hyacinth stared at her mother as if she’d sprouted an extra head. “Have you gone mad? You know his reputation as well as I.” _

_ Violet brushed that aside instantly. “His reputation won’t matter once you’re married.” _

_ “It would if he continued to consort with opera singers and the like.” _

_ “He wouldn’t,” Violet said, waving her hand dismissively. _

_ “How could you possibly know that?” _

_ Violet paused for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it’s a feeling I have.”  _

Here she was playing coy; she knew the men of the Bridgerton family had all had their fair share of dalliances, which all ceased the minute they were married, likely even before. 

_ “Mother,” Hyacinth said with a great show of solicitude, “you know I love you dearly—” _

_ “Why is it,” Violet pondered, “that I have come to expect nothing good when I hear a sentence beginning in that manner?” _

_ “But,” Hyacinth cut in, “you must forgive me if I decline to marry someone based upon a feeling you might or might not have.” _

_ Violet sipped her tea with rather impressive nonchalance. “It’s the next best thing to a feeling you might have. And if I may say so myself, my feelings on these things tend to be right on the mark.”  _

_ At Hyacinth’s dry expression, she added, “I haven’t been wrong yet.” _

_ “Mother,” Hyacinth said, pausing for slightly longer than normal, “I am not going to chase after Mr. St. Clair. He’s not at all the right sort of man for me.” _

_ “I’m not certain you’d know the right sort of man for you if he arrived on our doorstep riding an elephant.” _

_ “I would think the elephant would be a fairly good indication that I ought to look elsewhere.” _

_ “Hyacinth.” _

_ “And besides that,” Hyacinth added, “I don’t think he likes me very much.” _

_ “Nonsense,” Violet said, with all the outrage of a mother hen. “Everyone likes you.” _

_ Hyacinth thought about that for a moment. “No,” she said, “I don’t think everyone does.” _

_ “Hyacinth, I am your mother, and I know—” _

_ “Mother, you’re the last person anyone would tell if they didn’t like me.” _

_ “Nevertheless—" _

_ “Mother,” Hyacinth cut in, setting her teacup firmly in its saucer, “it is of no concern. I don’t mind that I am not universally adored. If I wanted everyone to like me, I’d have to be kind and charming and bland and boring all the time, and what would be the fun in that?” _

Violet was always proud of her children, but in a moment like this, she was unabashedly pleased. It also dawned on her at that moment, that perhaps there was a different reason Hyacinth had not yet married. 

_ “Why have you not married yet?” Violet asked. _

_ Hyacinth blinked at the abruptness of the question. “I beg your pardon.” _

_ “Why have you not married?” Violet repeated. “Do you even want to?” _

_ “Of course I do.”  _

She could see it in Hyacinth’s face. Her daughter wanted to marry and have a family but was scared. Violet couldn’t blame her, with her older siblings setting such grand examples of love, of course, Hyacinth would be scared for anything less. 

_ “Mother,” she said, “I do wish to marry. I swear to you that I do. And clearly I have been looking.” _

_ Violet lifted her brows. “Clearly?” _

_ “I have had six proposals,” Hyacinth said, perhaps a touch defensively. “It’s not my fault that none was suitable.” _

_ “Indeed.” _

_ “What do you mean by that?” _

_ “Of course none of those men was suitable. Half were after your fortune, and as for the other half—well, you would have reduced them to tears within a month.” _

_ “Such tenderness for your youngest child,” Hyacinth muttered. “It quite undoes me.” _

_ Violet let out a ladylike snort. “Oh, please, Hyacinth, you know exactly what I mean, and you know that I am correct. None of those men was your match. You need someone who is your equal.” _

Violet would not let her children marry someone who didn’t make them happy, but she also wouldn’t let them marry someone who brought them down, especially her daughters. They would not dim themselves to make another person shine brighter, Violet would not allow it. But it was equally difficult to make her daughter see that she could not push her equals away.

_ “That is exactly what I have been trying to tell you.” _

_ “But my question to you is—why are the wrong men asking for your hand?” _

_ Hyacinth opened her mouth, but she had no answer. _

_ “You say you wish to find a man who is your match,” Violet said, “and I think you think you do, but the truth is, Hyacinth—every time you meet someone who can hold his own with you, you push him away.” _

_ “I don’t,” Hyacinth said, but not very convincingly. _

_ “Well, you certainly don’t encourage them,” Violet said. She leaned forward, her eyes filled with equal parts concern and remonstration. “You know I love you dearly, Hyacinth, but you do like to have the upper hand in the conversation.” _

_ “Who doesn’t?” Hyacinth muttered. _

_ “Any man who is your equal is not going to allow you to manage him as you see fit.” _

_ “But that’s not what I want,” Hyacinth protested. _

_ Violet sighed. But it was a nostalgic sound, full of warmth and love. “I wish I could explain to you how I felt the day you were born,” she said. _

_ “Mother?” Hyacinth asked softly.  _

Violet never shied away from getting emotional with her children, but she also didn’t use emotions to inveigle. When she spoke with the seriousness she was about to, she made it abundantly clear that what she was going to say was with the deepest love. 

_ “It was so soon after your father died. And I was so sad. I can’t even begin to tell you how sad. There’s a kind of grief that just eats one up. It weighs one down. And one can’t—” Violet stopped, and her lips moved, the corners tightening in that way they did when a person was swallowing…and trying not to cry. “Well, one can’t do anything. There’s no way to explain it unless you’ve felt it yourself.” _

Talking about Edmund with Hyacinth was exceptionally difficult, because feelings of his death and her birth so often conflated in Violet’s mind, confusing her brain and her heart. 

_ “That entire last month I just didn’t know how to feel,” Violet continued, her voice growing softer. “I didn’t know how to feel about you. I’d had seven babies already; one would think I would be an expert. But suddenly everything was new. You wouldn’t have a father, and I was so scared. I was going to have to be everything to you. I suppose I was going to have to be everything to your brothers and sisters as well, but somehow that was different. With you…” _

In all her years, she’d never been this vulnerable with Hyacinth. But now was the time for it, not only because her baby girl had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, but because Violet herself had pushed through the most arduous of grief at last. Hyacinth had not removed her eyes from Violet’s face.

_ “I was scared,” Violet said again, “terrified that I might fail you in some way.” _

_ “You didn’t,” Hyacinth whispered. _

_ Violet smiled wistfully. “I know. Just look how well you turned out.” _

As much as they jested with one another, she was truthfully, unequivocally proud of Hyacinth. 

_ “But that’s not what I’m trying to tell you,” Violet said, her eyes taking on a slightly determined expression. “What I’m trying to say is that when you were born, and they put you into my arms—it’s strange, because for some reason I was so convinced you would look just like your father. I thought for certain I would look down and see his face, and it would be some sort of sign from heaven.” _

She realized by the look on Hyacinth’s face that she’d never shared this story with her daughter, and she was glad she hadn’t. Saving it for a moment like this was special. 

_ “But you didn’t,” Violet continued. “You looked rather like me. And then—oh my, I remember this as if it were yesterday—you looked into my eyes, and you blinked. Twice.” _

_ “Twice?” Hyacinth echoed.  _

_ “Twice.” Violet looked at her, her lips curving into a funny little smile. “I only remember it because you looked so deliberate. It was the strangest thing. You gave me a look as if to say, ‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’ ” _

Hyacinth’s birth was the one most imprinted in Violet’s mind, not only because it was the last, but because of this moment she was sharing with her daughter now. She quite believed Hyacinth was sent to save her. 

_ “And then you let out a wail,” Violet said, shaking her head. “My heavens, I thought you were going to shake the paint right off the walls. And I smiled. It was the first time since your father died that I smiled.” _

She paused for a moment. Even though she vowed never to favor one child over the other, and she didn’t, she needed to give this moment to Hyacinth, to tell her just how much Violet loved her. 

_ “And from that moment on, you were so dear to me. I love all my children, but you…” She looked up, her eyes catching Hyacinth’s. “You saved me.” _

_ “In some ways I was a little too protective of you,” Violet said, her lips forming the tiniest of smiles, “and at the same time too lenient. You were so exuberant, so completely sure of who you were and how you fit into the world around you. You were a force of nature, and I didn’t want to clip your wings.” _

_ “Thank you,” Hyacinth whispered, so softly.  _

_ “But sometimes I wonder if this left you too unaware of the people around you.” _

Violet saw a flash of worry overtake Hyacinth and she quickly reassured her daughter that was not a bad thing. 

_ “No, no,” Violet said. “You are kind, and you’re caring, and you are far more thoughtful than I think anyone realizes. But—oh dear, I don’t know how to explain this.” She took a breath, her nose wrinkling as she searched for the right words. “You are so used to being completely comfortable with yourself and what you say.” _

_ “What’s wrong with that?” Hyacinth asked. Not defensively, just quietly. _

_ “Nothing. I wish more people had that talent.” Violet clasped her hands together, her left thumb rubbing against her right palm.  _

_ “But what I think happens,” Violet continued, “is that when you don’t feel that way—when something happens to give you unease—well, you don’t seem to know how to manage it. And you run. Or you decide it isn’t worth it.” She looked at her daughter, her eyes direct and perhaps just a little bit resigned. “And that,” she finally said, “is why I’m afraid you will never find the right man. Or rather, you’ll find him, but you won’t know it. You won’t let yourself know it.” _

_ “I’ll think about that,” she said to her mother. _

_ “That’s all I can ask.” _

Years later, Violet would know that Hyacinth entered that conversation a young girl, bright with innocence, but left it a young woman, bright with courage. 

~

The next evening, at Lady Pleinsworth’s program, Violet made a point to sit next to Lady Danbury when she caught Hyacinth with a young man who could only be Mr. St. Clair. She pretended she did not see Hyacinth and the seat her daughter was saving. Violet had firmly believed exposure was the best form of learning, and she would not let her daughter get through this evening not sitting by Gareth. 

“It seems your cherub and my grandson have become fastly acquainted with one another,” Lady Danbury smirked into Violet’s side. 

“Oh? Have they? I hadn’t noticed,” Violet responded, but the smirk she gave back to Lady Danbury revealed all. 

Later that evening, Violet was pleased to find her daughter and Mr. St. Clair still in each other’s company. As the meddlesome mama she was, Violet made sure to invite Gareth to Anthony and Kate’s ball that upcoming Tuesday. Hyacinth would undoubtedly be there, as it was her brother’s ball, and Gareth, would not refuse a direct invitation. It was the best way to force her daughter to face her fears. 

Violet expected Hyacinth to be hesitant, but that Tuesday, when her daughter did not spend time with nearly anyone but Gareth, Violet was pleasantly surprised. Hyacinth had been pouring over some notebook or diary recently and had brought it with her that evening. Violet hadn’t questioned her about it, but she imagined it had something to do with Gareth. Whenever Hyacinth went to Lady Danbury’s, the only possession she brought with her was that book. Now, at the ball, that book and Gareth were the only two things that seemed to interest Hyacinth. Violet was keenly aware of the stolen glances and hushed meetings on the side of the dance floor. 

She had no idea what Hyacinth and Gareth were up to, but if it led to the two of them realizing how good a match they were, Violet would not complain. At this point, she wouldn’t even care if they tempted scandal, nearly all of her older siblings had, what’s another Bridgerton scandal to add to the mix? 

Violet was aware, however, that her daughter and Gareth soon parted, with the former attending to other young gentlemen on her dance card, but always glancing over her shoulder, as if she was looking for someone else. The latter of the pair seemingly disappeared from the ballroom. It was not her business of course, but when Violet saw Lord St. Clair, she had a distinct feeling that Gareth was doing his best to avoid his father. It was not a secret that the St. Clair men weren’t exactly on speaking terms. 

But then, Violet lost sight of her daughter. In a room of hundreds, Violet always seemed to know when one of her kin was missing. 

All of a sudden, Violet felt a tug on her shoulder and turned around to a rather flushed-looking Hyacinth. 

“Mother, I wish to go now,” Hyacinth began, “If you wish to stay that is alright with me, Gregory will bring me home.”

But before Violet could even reply, Hyacinth was off. Processing what had just happened, Violet’s motherly instincts kicked in, and she suspected things between Hyacinth and Gareth had changed. 

She did not wish to know the details, but that evening, once she’d arrived home as well, one of her servants informed her that Gareth was indeed at the front door of her house talking to Hyacinth. It was quite late for a visit, so she made her way to the front sitting room. The hurried sounds of conversation stopped her, however, and the cracked door indicated nothing too scandalous would occur. So, Violet resigned to stay out of it for once, leaving her daughter to fight this battle on her own. 

As the days went on, it did not go over Violet’s head the change in Hyacinth’s demeanor. The Monday following Anthony and Kate’s ball, Hyacinth was in a state Violet had not seen ever before from her daughter. 

“Hyacinth are you humming?” Violet said as she spread jam on her toast. 

“What? No. No,” Hyacinth responded unconvincingly. 

“Very well. You just seem as happy as a lark this morning, my dear.”

“Can I not be happy?”

Violet smirked at her daughter’s response, knowing she was trying to change the subject. Deflection did not work on Violet Bridgerton, however. 

“I wish for you to be as happy as possible,” Violet started, “I just wish I knew what it was that was causing you such happiness.”

“I find….this breakfast very tasty, that is all,” Hyacinth said, with Violet not believing it for a second. 

“Breakfast is your least favorite meal, I’m surprised it has put you in this good mood,” she said, egging her daughter on. 

“Mother how many times must you mention my mood? You’re making it sound as if I am a permanent grouch,” Hyacinth gruffed out before excusing herself to her bedroom. 

Violet was unashamed of the teasing she gave her daughter. The last week’s encounters between Hyacinth and Gareth, and the rather sing-song way Hyacinth moved about, were all the clues Violet needed to know that her daughter was indeed falling in love. 

“Oh, what a little fool,” Violet laughed to herself as she took a sip of tea, content that her daughter was falling whether she wanted to or not. 

Later that afternoon, Violet was taking tea with Hyacinth and Gregory when their butler announced the arrival of Gareth. 

_ “Mr. St. Clair!”  _ She was delighted to see him, for it meant he’d come to their house to see Hyacinth. 

_ “Lady Bridgerton,” he said, turning to her with a polite bow. “How lovely to see you.” _

_ “Have you met my son?” she asked. _

_ “My brother Gregory,” came Hyacinth’s voice.  _

Violet did not miss the smirk on Gregory’s face as he seemed to assess Gareth. With Hyacinth as his only younger sibling, Gregory always sought to be the protective older brother. 

_ “We’ve met,” Gregory said. _

_ “Bridgerton,” Gareth murmured, giving the younger man a nod. _

Hyacinth and Gregory engaged in some small squabble, but Violet quickly glossed right over it. 

_ “Won’t you have tea, Mr. St. Clair?” Violet asked, “It is a special blend of which I am particularly fond.” _

_ “I would be delighted.”  _

_ “Milk?” Lady Bridgerton asked.” _

_ “Thank you,” Gareth replied. “No sugar, if you please.” _

_ “Hyacinth takes hers with three,” Gregory said, reaching for a piece of shortbread. _

_ “Why,” Hyacinth ground out, “would he care?” _

_ “Well,” Gregory replied, taking a bite and chewing, “he is your special friend.” _

_ “He’s not—” She turned to Gareth. “Ignore him.” _

Violet could see Gareth ponder whether he should engage in the sibling’s rivalry, but then he turned to her instead, deciding not to face them. Smart man he was. 

_ “And how are you this afternoon?” he asked. _

_ “Smart man,” she murmured. _

She asked him about whether he came from a large family, but his face washed over with sadness as he mentioned his late brother. 

_ “He passed on late last year.” _

_ “Oh,” Violet said, her hand coming to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten completely. Please forgive me. And accept my deepest sympathies.” _

Violet liked to think she understood grief better than most people, so when she offered her sympathies, she meant them. Knowing that Gareth did not get along with his father, she could imagine how much his brother meant to him. Losing someone you love is never easy, and Violet would fail to offer kindness towards those who had lost someone dear. 

_ “Thank you,” he said. “George was an exceptional brother, and the world is poorer for his loss.” _

_ Violet was silent for a moment, and then, as if she could read his mind, she smiled and said, “But you do not wish to dwell on this now. We shall speak of something else.” _

Gareth looked over at Hyacinth, and the look on her daughter’s face was an indication that she wished to speak to Gareth alone. However, Violet was not ready to let them off the hook just yet, so she steered the conversation once more. 

_ “Lady Danbury speaks very highly of you,” Violet said. _

_ Gareth turned back to her. “I am fortunate to be her grandson.” _

_ “I have always liked your grandmother,” Violet said, sipping at her tea. “I know she scares half of London—” _

_ “Oh, more than that,” Gareth said genially. _

_ Violet chuckled. “So she would hope.” _

_ “Indeed.” _

_ “I, however, have always found her to be quite charming,” Violet said. “A breath of fresh air, really. And, of course, a very shrewd and sound judge of character.” _

_ “I shall pass along your regards.” _

_ “She speaks very highly of you,” Violet said. _

Subtly was not one of Violet’s talents, this she knew. By the look on Gareth’s face, he knew this as well and likely knew that she was offering her approval for him to marry Hyacinth at that moment. 

She could not gauge his reaction further, as Hyacinth and Gregory pulled him into a conversation and a footman motioned for her to come to the hall. Daphne had arrived for a visit, which delighted Violet as always. The two women rejoined the sitting room and the group discussed the family for a bit before Hyacinth spoke up. 

_ “Is it warm out of doors?” she asked, turning to her sister. “It looks sunny.” _

_ “It is quite,” Daphne said, sipping her tea. “I walked over from Hastings House.” _

_ “I should love to go for a walk,” Hyacinth announced. _

When Gareth responded only a second later, Violet was pleased. He was indeed a smart man and knew how to take a hint. An absolutely perfect match for her daughter.

_ “I would be delighted to escort you, Miss Bridgerton.” _

_ “Would you?” Hyacinth said with a dazzling smile. _

_ “I was out this morning,” Violet said. “The crocuses are in bloom in the park. A bit past the Guard House.” _

The Guard House was at the far end of the park, and Violet knew that it would take them possibly the whole afternoon to reach it and back. Ample enough time to confess their love, of course. 

_ He rose to his feet and offered her his arm. “Shall we see the crocuses then?” _

_ “That would be delightful.” Hyacinth stood. “I just need to fetch my maid to accompany us.” _

_ Gregory pushed himself off the windowsill, upon which he’d been leaning. “Perhaps I’ll come along, too,” he said. _

_ Hyacinth threw him a glare. _

_ “Or perhaps I won’t,” he murmured. _

_ “I need you here, in any case,” Violet said. _

_ “Really?” Gregory smiled innocently. “Why?” _

_ “Because I do,” she ground out.” _

No, she would not let Gregory ruin this moment for his sister. She would find some menial task for him to complete at the house instead. Here was a man who was finally worthy of Hyacinth, and Gregory would not be the one to screw it up. 

~

That evening, only hours later, Anthony arrived at Number 5. Hyacinth had arrived back from her walk with Gareth and then Lady Danbury’s without so much as a word. She’d run straight to her room, but Violet could see the large smile on her face. Dinner was to be in an hour and Violet would get her to talk then. 

“Mother!” Anthony kissed her cheek, “I’ve fantastic news!”

Anthony was this jovial only on very rare circumstances: when his children were born or when he and Kate celebrated an anniversary. Whatever his news was must have been so important for him to be that excited. 

“What is it dear?” Violet was unsure how long she could wait to hear his news. 

“Mr. Gareth St. Clair visited me today,” Anthony said, moving them both to sit. Violet knew that could only mean one thing, that Gareth asked for Hyacinth’s hand in marriage. As head of the family, it was customary for gentlemen to seek him out for inquiries about his sisters. Not that the elder three followed tradition and actually became engaged before being embroiled in scandalous moments. Nonetheless, Violet needed to hear it from Anthony. She squeezed his hand and urged him to go on. 

“He asked to marry Hyacinth, and I informed him that he had my approval. He went directly from visiting me to propose to her, and she accepted,” Anthony said. “After he proposed to her he came right back to me and informed me that it was official. I like him. A lot.”

Violet let the tears fall from her eyes as she exclaimed “Oh, me too!” then called for Hyacinth and for dinner to commence early. Anthony joined them and as soon as Hyacinth bound down the stairs Violet attacked her with hugs and kisses. 

“Mother, it is really not that big of a deal,” Hyacinth said, pushing her off, but smiling as wide as a rainbow. 

“It is a big deal, Hyacinth!” Violet said, elated. “Gareth is a wonderful man and the two of you will make a fine pair. I am so pleased to see you happy.” Hyacinth let herself sink into Violet’s hug after this and it was an astonishing moment for mother and daughter. 

The next couple of weeks were filled with wedding planning and a filled social schedule. Gareth was introduced to the remaining Bridgertons and brought along as Hyacinth’s fiance to various balls, plays, and events. Their happiness made Violet enjoy herself immensely, so much so, that on the evening of the Mottram ball, when Hyacinth claimed a headache and wished to leave, Violet let her. Her daughter’s presence at events no longer dictated her happiness, and she knew Hyacinth was exhausted. 

Then things changed. After that evening, Gareth didn’t call for several days. The newly-engaged pair had spent every waking moment together since they became engaged, that it was very odd for them suddenly not to. Hyacinth was taking tea with Violet and her whole demeanor was changed. She was quiet, agitated, and distraught. Violet figured something had happened between the pair, but it would take some prying to figure out what. 

It was never easy to get Hyacinth to confess to what her emotions were, but Violet could tell that something was deeply hurting her daughter. 

_ “Oh, Hyacinth,” Violet said with deep concern “Whatever can be the matter?” _

_ Hyacinth looked away.  _

_ “Do you wish to cry off?” Violet asked, softly and very carefully.  _ Violet would let her daughter back out of the marriage if that was what she truly wanted, but she wished that was not the case. 

_ Hyacinth gave her head a shake.  _ Violet saw something register on Hyacinth’s face, and Violet knew it well. It was love. 

_ “I don’t wish to cry off,” she said, even though she’d already shaken her head.  _

_ “Then you will have to help him,” Violet said. “With whatever it is that troubles him, it will be up to you to help him.” _

_ Hyacinth nodded slowly. _

_ “I believe he cares for you,” her mother said. “I truly believe that he does.” _

_ “I know he does,” Hyacinth said sadly. Then she sighed wearily.  _

_ “This isn’t like you,” her mother said. _

_ Hyacinth looked up. _

_ “To be so quiet,” Violet clarified, “to wait.” _

_ “To wait?” Hyacinth echoed. _

_ “For him. I assume that is what you’re doing, waiting for him to call upon you and beg your forgiveness for whatever it is he has done.” _

_ “I—” She stopped.  _

_ “Why don’t you send him a letter?” Violet suggested. “Request that he pay you a visit. He is a gentleman, and you are his fiancée. He would never refuse.” _

_ “No,” Hyacinth murmured, “he wouldn’t. But”—she looked up, her eyes begging for advice—“what would I say?” _

Violet didn’t know what the matter between the two was, but somehow, she knew what her daughter needed to hear. 

_ “Say whatever is in your heart,” Violet said. Her lips twisted wryly. “And if that doesn’t work, I suggest that you take a book and knock him over the head with it.” _

_ Hyacinth blinked, then blinked again. “I beg your pardon.” _

_ “I didn’t say that,” Violet said quickly. _

Hyacinth smiled, which was Violet’s goal. _ “I’m rather certain you did.” _

_ “Do you think?” Violet murmured, concealing her own smile with her teacup. _

_ “A large book,” Hyacinth queried, “or small?” _

_ “Large, I think, don’t you?” _

_ Hyacinth nodded. “Have we The Complete Works of Shakespeare in the library?” _

_ Violet’s lips twitched. “I believe that we do.” _

_ “I love you, Mother,” she said. “I just wanted you to know that.” _

_ “I know, darling,” Violet said, and her eyes were shining brightly. “I love you, too.” _

Violet watched Hyacinth’s face go through a sequence of emotions. The love and laughter shifted to wonder, then to solace, then shame, then Violet saw understanding flash across her daughter’s face, finished with a look of deep maturity. It made Violet so proud. 

_ “I say, Hyacinth,” Violet asked, “are you quite all right?” _

_ She shook her head, even as she said, “I’m perfectly well. Just thinking like a fool, that’s all.” _

A fool absolutely in love, Violet knew. 

~

It was no shock to Violet a week later when Hyacinth and Gareth pegged the question of moving the wedding up. It was likely they’d engaged in premarital affairs, and though Violet should have reprimanded them, she simply didn’t care, for they were so happy. Still, Violet would not let all of her children get away with quick engagements. And especially, as her youngest child, Violet would not let Hyacinth marry in haste. So, she set the wedding date. For two months, hence. It was the sweetest revenge on her most confounding child. 

* * *

Violet laughed as she finished her tale, as Hyacinth merely rolled her eyes. 

“You seemed to have too much fun at mine and Gareth’s expense, mother,” Hyacinth said but smiled down at her mother. 

“You know how much I love you both,” Violet said. 

“I do.”

Francesca had finished performing on the piano, and Violet felt rather tired, deciding it was time for her to retire. Tomorrow would be another exciting day as the Bridgerton brood continued to celebrate the holiday. She was looking forward to more hugs from her grandchildren and time spent with her family, but for now, she needed rest. 

“I believe it is time for me to sleep,” she announced to the room, and sixteen heads quickly turned towards her, offering to be the one to escort her to her room. 

It was Gregory who said something first. 

“I will take you to your room, mother, I am best suited for it,” he said as his siblings rolled their eyes at his officious declaration.

Violet took his extended arm and was glad that he was the one to escort her, for he was the last of her children she needed to hark back over this night... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Only one more chapter and the epilogue, we're close to the end :(

**Author's Note:**

> Likely going to release chapters in order of the books (D, A, B, C, E, F, H, G), plus an epilogue, a la Julia Quinn style, but we shall see! Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think/if this is even something you'd want to continue reading.


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